


Naga+Bara

by Wherever_Girl



Category: Fangface (Cartoon), Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch (Video Game)
Genre: Bromance, Fluff, Gen, Naga and Bara cuddles ftw!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wherever_Girl/pseuds/Wherever_Girl
Summary: A passion project about two of my characters being... fluffin' adorable.I don't quite know how to explain the setup, but here's what we can assume:A spell went wonky, causing Oliver, Esther, Swaine, Marcassin and Drippy to end up in the modern world; they meet the Fangface Gang, who help them adjust. They find they can go back and forth between worlds if they please. No major villain plans or whatnot, just slice of life stuff. Oh, and Swaine is a naga (yes, again). And Puggsy shot up in height and is now a bara stud.Mostly it'll be just that. Naga!Swaine and Bara!Puggsy having a bromance and sharing cuddly moments. That's it. That's all this fic is about.(For Elwynn and Ninja, who love baras and nagas and deserve lots of hugs ^^)
Kudos: 4





	1. Thunderstorm

**Author's Note:**

> I am gifting this fluffy drabble series to my discord friend, Elwynn, and his friend Ninja--- mostly as a thank-you for including my characters in their 'Crossover Chaos' series, as well as sharing jokes, fluffy moments, and basically inspiring this set-up xD

Storms.

If there was one thing Swaine and Puggsy could agree on, it was the fact that thunderstorms _really_ sucked.

Puggsy hated the lightning. The way it crashed, a blazing bolt breaking through the sky making a bright flash that made shadows dance on the walls, often misshaping them to look like something horrible. During his travels he managed to keep his fear hidden--- particularly because Fangs would be freaking out for everyone, so his panic was replaced by annoyance whenever his scrawny friend clung to him like a frightened cat.

Swaine hated the thunder. With his naga senses, the rumbling in the sky was amplified for his hearing; it wasn’t like he was listening to the storm, his instincts just automatically picked it up. It wasn’t like his gunshots, which he heard so often he was used to them--- much less was pulling the trigger so he would know when the sound would occur. But thunder? He never knew when it would happen. The only time he never paid it any mind was when Shadar was attacking the group during that rainstorm, as he had to focus on fighting the fiend.

Puggsy would hide under the blankets or go into a windowless room (if any) until the lightning stopped; he was embarrassed. He had recently had a growth spurt, now standing at 7 feet tall with bulky muscles, looking so strong that even Fangface had to admit his friend looked intimidating! That compliment would probably go out the window if the werewolf--- or anyone--- saw the stud curled up under the sheets because of a storm.

Swaine would go somewhere dark and cover his ears; he was thankful Kim had given him headphones so he could listen to music when he worked, as he would put them on whenever the thunder started. Otherwise he would make an excuse to slither off somewhere private to wait out the storm. He was thankful storms didn’t happen often to his group--- the last thing he needed was Drippy calling him a ‘sniveling snake’ or Esther giggling about a grown man being afraid of storms.

The two groups were staying at Biff’s place tonight. He lived in a large house, his parents on a business trip for the weekend, and with the extra guest rooms there was plenty of space for everyone. Currently, Biff was showing Marcassin the _Lord of the Rings_ movies, Oliver was helping Kim clean up the kitchen after the group had finished dinner, Esther was showing Fangface her familiars, Drippy had been knackered after a long day and was asleep…

Meanwhile, Puggsy was ducking into a room in the upstairs hall when the thunderstorm intensified. Rain could be heard rattling on the rooftops and the lightning was so bright it could blind a man!

Likewise, Swaine was looking to escape the thunder, the roar of it so loud it shook the house--- and he had left his headphones down in the garage when he was helping Biff tune up the Wolf Buggy.

They ended up in the same room; the bedroom had a bathroom that connected to the hall, and Puggsy had tried hiding in there until he noticed the window that gave a view of lightning; Swaine had entered through the bedroom’s hall door, just as Puggsy came in through the bathroom. Both shut the doors, backing up in the dark room… giving a jolt when they bumped into each other!

“What the---?! Snake-ass?!” Puggsy sputtered.

“Wolf-chow?!” Swaine questioned.

“What are you doing in here?!” Both demanded at the same time.

“I asked first---!” Puggsy snapped.

“The hell you did---“ Swaine began to retort.

_*Crash! Boom!*_

Their banter was cut off by the storm. By reflex, Pugs dove under the bed covers while Swaine coiled up covering his ears. It was then the two noticed the large windows that lined the wall, the silk curtains barely closed over them.

After a pregnant pause, the two looked at each other. “You… hate storms too, huh?” Pugs whispered.

“Y-Yeah… just the thunder, though.” Swaine murmured. “It sounds louder to me because of my sharp hearing. What about you?”

“Um… t-the lightning. It always freaks me out,”

“I-I see.”

There was another flash of lightning, making Pugs gasp; Swaine covered his ears, bracing himself for the blast of thunder that followed seconds later. The naga looked over at the stud, who kept hidden under the blankets to shield himself from the lightning.

Having sympathy, Swaine waited until the last roar of thunder passed, before quickly bolting over to the window and shutting the curtains completely, before quickly slithering back over to the bed--- coiling up instantly when the thunder rolled again.

Puggsy peeked out, noticing the lightning was shielded by the curtains, as well as the trembling naga beside the bed. The flashing outside still illuminated beyond the curtains, making him flinch, but he could also notice the look of discomfort on the thief’s face.

He tapped Swaine on the shoulder, getting his attention; he lifted the covers, inviting him under. He handed him a pillow to cover his ears with to help stifle out the rolling thunder. The thief nodded in thanks, sitting under the blanket with him--- when the thunder crashed, he would duck down and cover his head.

_*CRASH! BOOM!*_

“Gah!” both men yelped. That cacophony of thunder and lightning was really intense--- the wind was picking up, and the rain was coming down hard.

In that short second of panic, Swaine’s coils wrapped around Puggsy’s torso, the naga pulling the stud close; in response, the loudmouth wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight, both of them cringing as the storm’s noise echoed in the room.

After two minutes, when the lightning and thunder grew apart by 10 seconds, the two cynics acknowledged their position: the thief had his head pressed against the stud’s chest, and the loudmouth had his arms and legs wrapped up in 20 feet of snake tail, both of them hugging.

Clearing their throats, they pulled off the blankets. “I-I think the storm is calming down…” Swaine murmured.

“Yeah, I think you’re---“ Puggsy began to agree as they pulled away.

Another flash of lightning and thunder caused them to cling to each other again. The naga kept his coils wrapped tightly around them both, while the stud kept his large arms wrapped around his slim shoulders. When the lightning flashed, Puggsy would bury his face in the thief’s shoulder; likewise, Swaine would allow the loudmouth to cover one of his ears while the other pressed against his chest, the strong hand stifling his hearing while also having him hear his racing heartbeat.

After another five minutes, the storm began to calm down; the thunder and lightning grew apart by 20 seconds and more, the rain decreasing to a light sprinkle. By this point, the two had managed to relax; Puggsy had grown slack in the coils, rubbing Swaine’s back, while the naga listened as the stud’s heartbeat slowed down to a soft rhythm.

“Um… thanks for, ah, holding me.” Swaine said, albeit awkwardly.

“No problem.. thanks for enclosing the curtains,” Puggsy added, while blushing a bit in embarrassment. “You, uh… won’t tell the others about our saturation, will ya?”

“Hey, you keep your mouth ‘enclosed’, I will too.”

“Good,”

The two stayed like that for a little while, having grown too comfortable to move. It wasn’t long before they had drifted to sleep, Puggsy wrapped up in the naga’s coils, and Swaine held in the stud’s arms.

…

Little did they know that, at some point during the calm of the storm, Esther and Fangface had been looking for their friends; checking the room, they peeked in and found them snuggled together.

It would be a crime not to take a picture.

Fangface snickered a bit, Esther shushing him as they continued onward. They decided they wouldn’t tell anyone about this and keep the photo to themselves…

That is, until their friends felt the need to start another fight.

* * *

Swaine and Puggsy never seemed to get along. Ever since Oliver and his friends came across Fangface and his gang, the thief and the loudmouth always seemed to swap insults and dirty looks. Thankfully, Puggsy got along fine with Oliver, Esther, and Marcassin (Drippy was… tolerable); likewise Swaine was kind towards Biff, Kim, and Fangs/Fangface (up to some degree with the latter); but when it came to each other, it seemed like nothing could keep those two from picking a fight!

That is, until that stormy night.


	2. Shut Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Puggsy thinks about all the things Swaine does that annoys him.

Swaine knew hundreds of ways to get on Puggsy’s nerves.

The loudmouth thought of the top five ways the thief could tick him off. As much as they hung out, he would go through this mental check-list at _least_ five times a week to see how much the naga annoyed him.

Number Five: ‘Correcting’ him whenever the gang would visit the different world their new companions hailed from. When it wasn’t having to change outfits in order to avoid funny looks, it was having to equip proper weapons, point out which familiars worked best with who, and which places had the strongest enemies. This was low on the list, as the gang _did_ need to know a few new tactics if ever they came across a threat, and more often than not it was Oliver or Esther filling them in; but it was on the list nonetheless because whenever Puggsy would make a mistake, Swaine was quick to criticize him and _tell_ him what to do next time and how to do it. (Good grief, he had to deal with enough of that with his 3rd Grade English teacher!)

Number Four: Criticizing or complaining about stuff in the modern world. Now, when it came to machines or technology, Swaine was impressed--- being a mechanic back in his world, he loved to study and examine stuff like that, even wanted to try building something of the sort back in his world. However, he felt a lot of stuff was unnecessary--- first criticizing the music (“How is this music? That woman sounds drunk!”), then how others dressed (“Geez, do all your shorts have to be cut off at the thighs?”), or even just things in general (“Does ANYONE not rely on the internet for everything?!”) …Geez, he heard less complaints from his own grandpa!

Number Three: Arguing about _anything_. Whether it was how to get out of a tricky situation, which direction to go, or even what movie to watch, the two barely could find a common ground. More often than not Oliver, Kim or Biff had to be peace keepers and help them reach a compromise, Esther or Drippy would tell them to cut the banter because there was no time to argue, Fangs would stand there too nervous to intervene (as Fangface he would stand there in confusion, before whistling at them telling them HE would decide), and Marcassin would sigh and try to reach a reasonable solution with the two.

Number Two: Swaine would sit back and watch with a smirk as Fangface--- with every transformation--- would harass Puggsy. While the others would get the werewolf to calm down and refrain from attacking the stud, the naga would be watching with an amused look on his face. It wouldn’t surprise Puggsy if the snake-butt jerk took pictures!

And Number One…

The Number One way Swaine got on his nerves only occurred when Puggsy was really, REALLY stressed out after a bad day.

This bad day, in particular, carried over into early the next morning--- before anyone else was awake--- thus when Swaine committed Number One.

It started last night. He had gone out with some other friends to a night club, just to have some drinks and chill… but about an hour later, he noticed that a lot of people were avoiding him, and his friends had gone off to hit on girls, most of them leaving with a date on their arm. “You can get home alright, can’t ya?” the last friend said on his way out with a hot chick.

Puggsy ended up having to walk home—he didn’t have money for cab fare. He felt buzzed from the drinks, and figured it would probably be a good idea to listen to Fangs’ advice about relaxing in the comfort of his own home. He kept his eyes focused on the alleys and curb, knowing some pothead or thug could be lying in wait.

Thankfully, no one tried to mug him. Actually, people on the sidewalk were moving to stay away from _him._ An old woman had dropped her wallet, and he was quick to kneel down and pick it up for her--- only to get hit with her cane, calling him a hoodlum before swiping her wallet back and storming off! Great, now he was buzzed AND had a headache.

Once the world stopped spinning, he stood up in front of a window, where he got a good look at his reflection--- with his black jacket, bulking muscles, long hair, and unpleasant expression, he looked like a regular goon.

He continued to walk, the thought sinking in; he never really had the problem before his growth spurt. Maybe because he was short he wasn’t deemed much of a threat (unless he had to show it); but nowadays people take one look at him and shy away.

Shaking his head, he just focused on getting home…

Only to realize he left his keys inside; he shared a place with Fangs, as together both of them could afford the rent, but unless the pinhead had changed into Fangface before bed, his friend was probably out like a light. (Note to self: find a roommate who isn’t a heavy sleeper!) He pounded on the door, and even tried calling his friend’s cell--- just his luck, Fangs was asleep.

Sighing, he called up Biff; the leader lived just a couple blocks away, and thank goodness he spent his weekends inside playing videogames. He was surprised to hear Oliver answer the phone--- the boy wizard claimed Biff was introducing him and Swaine to videogames, and right now the leader was teaching the thief the mechanics behind _Mario Kart 64_ (he could hear Swaine cussing in the background).

“We’re playing some videogames, but Biff said he’ll leave the door unlocked for you,” Oliver told him.

Puggsy got to the house ten minutes later, locking the door behind him as he entered. It was midnight, and Biff and Oliver were still playing videogames, Swaine having gone to bed five minutes earlier. Giving them a short wave, the stud climbed the stairs and collapsed on the bed in a guest room.

But sleep didn’t come. He lie awake, thinking about how his so-called ‘friends’ ditched him at the club, the suspicious looks he received from others on the street, being locked out of his own house, and how he really, really, REALLY wanted to zonk out and forget this night. …It also didn’t help that Biff and Oliver were still playing games, Drippy often cheering Oliver on or criticizing the gameplay, and Swaine once or twice hollering at them to quiet down. It was 2 AM by the time they fell asleep.

Then the nightmares happened. Puggsy always had nightmares whenever he went out drinking, and they would always be twisted, horrifying, and would make no sense. He jolted awake from the buzzed bad dream, only to be greeted with a mild headache. Groaning, he rubbed his face; he looked at the clock--- only 3 AM.

Night turned into morning slowly; he drank some water… only to run into the bathroom and vomit. Contrary to popular belief, Puggsy was a lightweight when it came to drinking, his system rejecting any beverage with alcohol in it, regardless of whether he was buzzed or drunk. He was a bit thankful he only got buzzed, otherwise he would have been throwing up on the way home.

Once he was done, he flushed away his bile, heading back to bed, his headache worse…

Speaking of headaches, Swaine was waiting for him in the room, seated on the bed. “Bad night?” the thief asked.

Ah, great. Here comes Number One. “Yeah…” Puggsy muttered. The thief patted the bed; sighing, the stud walked over and sat down--- he looked away as Swaine took off his pants, having to do so in order to transform into a naga and wrap his snake-tail around his torso. The loudmouth then lied against the thief’s chest, letting him rub his head.

“What happened?”

“…my friends ditched me, people looked at me weird, an old lady beat me with her cane because she thought I was a hoodlum, and my roommate is an idiot.”

Swaine shrugged. “Well, I can understand that last part… the rest confuses me, though.”

Puggsy could sense him smirking. Here it comes…

“Why anyone would ditch a friend like you is puzzling, that old lady must’ve had cataracts, and… you sure people weren’t just checking you out?”

The stud buried his face in his chest, his hands gripping the sheets. “Stop it.”

“Oh c’mon… you’re a big strong guy,”

“Shut up…”

“And you’ve got a great smile,”

“Shut up, please…”

“You’re a decent guy,”

“No I’m not,”

“You’ve got great hair too,”

“Compared to yours, maybe…”

“Tch… and you’re funny,”

“Stop,”

“Smart,”

“Shut it,”

“And…” Swaine’s coils tightened around him, as he hugged him tight. “You’re a damn good hugger,”

“Grrr…” Puggsy grumbled in his shirt, his arms wrapped around him.

He felt Swaine’s chest rumble in a soft chuckle, as the thief patted his head. “Yep. You’re a total bara stud,”

“...stupid naga twink,”

Swaine scoffed, still smirking. He rubbed his back. “I mean it, though. You’re a great guy… people will see it eventually. Don’t worry about last night… you’ve got real friends who know the real you,”

Puggsy gripped him a little tighter, not commenting. He only nodded, closing his eyes, letting the naga coddle him until he drifted to sleep.

It wasn’t the first time Swaine held him close and offered him compliments and reassurance, making him forget about their rivalry, his bad mood, pretty much anything that caused him stress as he went slack in the naga’s coils, giving in to his comforting embrace…

And it remained the Number One thing that annoyed him the most about the thief.


	3. Self Conscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few slurs too many reminds Swaine how he's the only naga around, and Puggsy takes it upon himself to help lift his spirits.

“Hey, serpent! Don’t you have rodents to chase?!”

“Yeah! Go down to Ding Dong Well and scare some mice--- and stay down there!”

“Have you swallowed anyone today? That scaly stomach of yours looks thick!”

“C’mon, snake! Are you going to answer, or is your forked tongue caught on your fangs?!”

Swaine balled his fists, wanting to turn around quick as a whip and snag the jeering men in his coils and teach them why it was unwise to tease a naga… but Esther and Kim were on either side of him, keeping a hand on his shoulders in order to prevent him from causing a scene. Fangs walked behind them--- having to be careful not to trip over Swaine’s tail--- carrying a bag of groceries.

The gang of teens had been doing small quests in order to earn guilders whenever they traversed his home world (as it turns out their modern currency was useless). They had been gathering some ingredients for a woman who was making a special dinner for her husband’s birthday, having been on their way back to her house when a small group of men started calling slurs at the thief.

“Ooh, ooh, are people around here always that mean?” Fangs sneered, appalled at such rude behavior.

“Only to something they don’t like,” Swaine muttered with grimace.

“Don’t let them bother you, Swaine. People like that are only out to offend and get a reaction,” Esther told him.

“I’ll give them a reaction---“

“No! Just keep walking…”

“Walking?! That ain’t walking! That’s slithering!” came a holler, and they turned to see the men were following them!

Kim glared, having the mind to show Fangs a picture of the moon and have Fangface teach the men a lesson in common decency, but in the second she turned she gave Swaine an opening to turn and slither up to the men, baring his fangs. “Why don’t you say that to my face rather than my back, you wretches?!” he snarled.

“Swaine, no! Oh, not again…” Esther groaned.

“Oi, go get the guards! We got a mad python in the streets!” one of the men exclaimed in jest.

“What’re you gonna do, ya anaconda? Swallow us whole and crush us inside your belly? Inject us with venom? Strangle us with those coils?” another taunted.

“Go ahead and try something! The guards will be itching to put down a monster in the city!”

“Then why haven’t they put YOU creepos down yet?!” came a new voice as Puggsy stepped forth, accompanied by Biff, Oliver, and Drippy.

“What’s going on here?” Biff demanded.

“Oh, we were just having some fun, Oliver.” One of the men said in innocence. “But apparently your friend here can’t take a joke,”

“If those were jokes, they were pretty lousy!” Fangs scoffed.

“I’m with the tall skinny bunting--- I know jokes, mun, ‘n’ those lines ye were spittin’ were nothing funny!” Drippy agreed.

“Alright, alright, no need to throw a hissy fit,” The first man said, turning to Swaine. “ _We’re sorry_ our ‘jokes’ offended you. There, that better?”

“(Would be better if you were sincere, jackass),” Swaine murmured, turning away and slithering off.

“Swaine! Oh…” Esther sighed.

Kim turned to the men. “You’d better leave our friend alone--- next time you make comments, you’re going to have more than an angry naga to worry about!” she warned.

“Ooooooh!” The men feigned fear, before walking off.

“Is Swaine going to be alright?” Biff asked in concern.

“I hope so. Normally he goes off to cool down--- though one time he stayed indoors for a whole week,” Oliver replied with mild concern.

“This has happened before?!” Fangs gasped. “Ooh, ooh, if I could transform like Swaine, you bet I’d be roughing up any guy who called me names!”

“(You already do, pinhead),” Puggsy muttered under his breath.

“Huh? You say something, Pugs?”

“Don’t you have groceries to deliver?”

“C’mon, lets drop these off, then go see how Swaine is doing.” Kim advised, and they went to finish the errand.

After the woman gave them a reward consisting of 50 guilders, 2 cakes and 3 Sun Drops, they went to the Cat’s Cradle near the front of town. Sure enough, Swaine went back into his room, and only let Oliver inside to talk. Everyone waited in the lobby, until they came down the stairs.

There was a bit of stumbling on Swaine’s part, as the older man was now walking on two legs; his legs always felt like they fell asleep whenever he changed back, and it would take him a minute or so to get readjusted.

“C’mon, I heard there’s a monster with a bounty on its head roaming the hills--- that should help you lot rake in some guilders,” Swaine stated, heading for the door.

“Swaine---“ Biff began to say, but Esther raised her hand and shook her head. The leader sighed, and the group decided to let the matter lie and let the thief blow off steam his own way.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Normally, whenever Swaine had to deal with slurs, a talk with Oliver and a rumble in the field were enough to get him back into high spirits. He had been dealing with it for a while now…

When he first joined Oliver, Esther and Drippy on their quest to defeat Shadar, he had to keep his naga-side hidden when in public. The first time the secret came out was when he transformed to save Oliver when he fell overboard during the Eye of the Storm—but considering he saved the Pure Hearted One from drowning and was not deemed a threat, the sailors felt no need to send him off (hell, a couple of them said it was good luck for the voyage!); after a while, the group coaxed him into showing his naga form to other people.

It was a recessive gene, his father had told him when he was a boy; his grandfather was a naga, and every other generation carried the trait. The gene skipped both his father and little brother, leaving Swaine to be the only naga left in their family. According to Queen Cassiopeia, nagai were once a well-populated race just as much as humans and grimalkin, but as centuries went by and the species intermingled with others, the bloodline grew thinner and thinner; from what Marcassin could deduce, Swaine was probably the last naga entirely.

And it was starting to get to him.

He would slither through many towns with his friends, even the forest villages, hoping that someone, somewhere, was a naga as well—that by seeing him, they got the message: _I’m one too! You don’t have to hide!_

Sadly the only one that ever came close was Aapep, but that snake with two arms wasn’t exactly deemed a kindred spirit.

Swaine looked at his two legs as he walked across the field with everyone. It felt right like this, him having two legs just like the others, not having to worry about tripping others behind him, getting suspicious looks (…well, more suspicious than the ones he got in his thieving days), or having to eat his full weight in food every month.

But he could only walk on two legs for so long— ever since he first transformed, he would have to transform at least every 48 hours or else end up transforming automatically no matter where he was or what he was doing, and not able to change back for 72 hours. Ironically enough, Fangs had a similar problem (not that he knew about it)--- if he went an entire month without turning into Fangface, the werewolf would have a dueling personality during the day of a full moon, then transform automatically that night, whether he saw the moon or not.

The only difference was Fangs didn’t know he was another species… and Swaine really wished he could forget just as easily.

He shut his eyes for a moment. Just focus on the bounty hunt.

…

The bounty consisted of a pack of 5 Gruffians terrorizing the forest dwellers to the west, and with such a large group taking part in the fight, the fight was over in five minutes flat, the rogue hounds disappearing in puffs of smoke. They went on their way back to the kingdom to report to Swift Solutions.

They were barely up the hill when he heard the slurs again.

“Oh, look, he’s trying to be human. How cute.”

“Ha! What’s he trying to pull?”

“I’d hide the truth too if I had the butt of a snake…”

“Hey, snake-ass! Why don’t you get your face redone while you’re at--- ACK!”

Swaine looked, seeing Puggsy had grabbed the last man speaking by the shirt, the stud glaring deep in to his eyes.

“Excusify me, but ‘Snake-Ass’ is MY nickname for him… so I suggest ya SHUT IT!” with that, he shoved the man back. The others stood their ground, preparing for a fight, but seeing as they were outnumbered, decided to back off.

Flustered, Swaine turned and stormed off. “Swaine, come back!” Esther called, running after him, but he outran her--- speed was something he mastered in his thieving days.

He ran until he found an empty lot behind a house, jumping down off the wall and into the small yard; he paced around, taking a breath. It was getting to be too much--- hearing slurs was one thing, but when his friends (especially ones that annoyed him to no end) would end up picking fights for him… that’s when he really felt pathetic.

The first time it got that far, he stayed in his room in Hamelin for a week. Everyone gave him his space, waiting until he was ready to come out.

Now he felt like just staying alone, just like he had chosen to do before he joined Oliver…

“Y’know it’s kinda rude to keep ditching us like that,”

Swaine looked up, seeing Puggsy standing up on the wall. “Can’t a guy have some peace and quiet?” the thief sneered, crossing his arms.

Puggsy jumped down, the stud leaning against the adjacent wall and looking at him. “Look, Swaine, I didn’t mean to embarrass ya back there--- those jerks just needed a lesson in keeping comments to themselves. They’re what we in the modern world would call, ‘trolls’.”

“It’s not that…” Swaine slumped against the wall, staring at the ground. “It’s the _reason_ they do it.”

“What, you steal their girlfriends or something?”

Swaine scoffed, smirking for only a moment, before sighing. “It’s personal. You wouldn’t understand,”

Puggsy walked over, crossing his arms. “Try me. Because I’ve dealt with bullies, brats, snobs, psychopaths, senile geezers, and a crazified werewolf for practically my entire life, for various reasons stemming from how short I was to how I ran my mouth.”

The thief sighed. “Yeah, well… difference is you’re human. Completely.”

The stud paused, waiting for him to continue; when things remained quiet, he spoke. “Hey. You’re human too. What, you think that just because you turn half-snake you ain’t a person? I mean, granted, not all of us can slither around, but that doesn’t mean---“

“That’s EXACTLY what I mean!” Swaine began to pace furiously. “Look around, Puggsy. There’s no other nagai in my world. I’m the last one born in my family, and there hasn’t been any more seen since then. Have you seen any in your world?” He paused in his rant, but received no answer. “I didn’t think so! So don’t think for a damn minute you know what it feels like to be a freak!”

He turned away, aiming to run and jump onto the wall and take off across the square, but a pair of strong hands caught him by the arms. Before he knew it, he was turned and facing the stud. “Who says you’re a freak?! I’ve seen REAL freaks Swaine--- I’ve seen lizard-men who transform others into reptiles, gigantisized cobras trained to kidnap wealthy women, guys who turn themselves into werewolves in order to steal zoo animals, aliens of all kinds in outer space trying to swipe minds or blow up the planet, and ordinary humans who go to insane lengths just to get rich! You ain’t got NOTHING on individualists who go out of their way to hurt others for ridiculous reasons!”

Swaine let out a heavy sigh. “…That’s not exactly it, either. I’m the only naga in this world, Pugs--- all the slurs, weird looks and even being around others reminds me of that. I’m alone.”

Pugs gave him a look. “Swaine.” He spoke in a soft but stern tone.

The thief shut his eyes. Oh crap. It was _that_ tone. “Puggsy, no. Please, w-we might be seen---“

“ _Swaine_.”

“Seriously, we can go back to the Inn---“

“Swaaaaiiiiine. (…y’know it’s gonna get louder~).”

The thief groaned. Dammit, he hated when the loudmouth did this… but he complied.

He leaned forth, arms limp at his sides, allowing the stud to wrap his arms around him; he leaned back against the wall, sinking down until they were both comfortably seated on the grass. The thief felt him rubbing his back, and he shut his eyes--- mostly praying to God that no one came along and caught sight of them.

The two had known each other long enough to have somewhat of a code for situations like this. Whenever Swaine was fed up with something or had hit his last nerve, or was just generally upset to the point where he’d be willing to talk to his _rival_ about his problems, Puggsy would just say his name in a certain tone—one that was indistinguishable and easy to catch his attention. Basically it meant: “I’m even starting to worry about you, just c’mere and let it out.”

“You ain’t alone. You think Fangface is the only weird-wolf in the world? He’s got a cousin, y’know. And if a furball like him has a kindred spirit, there’s a chance you do too… as much as it makes my blood turn cold,” Puggsy told him with a light quip.

Swaine scoffed. “You’ve always been cold-blooded.”

“Ah, shaddap. …There’s a chance there’s more nagas out there--- idiots like that probably make them want to hide. But if you keep being brave, maybe they will too. Heck, if we see any in the modern world, I’ll bring you over just to tell ya ‘I told ya so!’. But you won’t know if ya keep wallowing in self-pity--- which I don’t know why. With your speed, strength, and sharp senses, you’re one of a kind on the battlefield! Not to mention how well you look after Oliver and Esther--- I’ve seen how you coil around them when you sense danger, and they look so safe with you, they trust you. And you can bet they won’t be backing down against anyone who talks crap about ya,”

“I just don’t want them to get hurt because of it…”

“Tch, the way people talk of Oliver, anyone who lays a hand on him OR his friends will have a mob on their heels. Plus… if anyone hurts your friends for defending ya, then they’ll REALLY know what happens when you piss off a naga!”

The thief nodded. He didn’t exactly want to cause trouble, but felt the loudmouth had a point. “I… still want to walk around on two legs.”

“Whatever ya want… just do it because you feel like it, not because of what others say,”

“Right,” The older man stood up, Puggsy standing with him.

They walked across the square, spotting the others by the fountain. “Swaine! There you are,” Biff said first, as they walked over. “We checked the hotel but the purrprioter said you never came in, so we got a little worried.”

“Sorry… just needed time to cool down,”

“Where’d you go, Pugs?” Fangs asked. “You took off after Swaine did,”

“Hey, with jerks like that, I’m surprised the rest of ya didn’t need to go clear your heads,” Pugs scoffed.

“Honestly, I’m with Puggsy on this. If those guys have nothing better to do than stand on the curb calling out insults, we need to do something to put them in their place!” Oliver huffed. “Maybe we can tell King Tom about their behavior,”

“Aye, no king would allow his subjects to bad-mouth someone--- especially since Swaine happens to be a prince!” Drippy added.

“Prince of pythons, you mean!” called a voice, as the men from before were walking over!

“Good grief, are you guys stalking us or something?!” Fangs sneered.

“Hey, someone’s gotta make sure that snake you’re with doesn’t commit vore,” one of the men taunted.

“THAT’S IT!” Kim shouted before the others could react, and stormed towards the men. “I am SICK and TIRED of hearing you guys say---“ * _random flower pot falls and breaks*_ “about Swaine! The only real snakes hanging around town are you stupid---“ * _cat yowls offscreen_ * “doing nothing but following us around just to start a scene! Well you want a scene?! YOU—“ * _horse whinny from down the street_ * “GOT ONE, BUSTER! Now are you going to leave us alone, or do I have to stick my heel up someone’s---”* _church bell rings_ *”..until you apologize?!”

No one moved. Everyone in the gang looked at each other, stunned as they had never seen (or heard) Kim so mad. Even the men had no words--- instead took off like a shot.

“Damn, Kim.” Swaine was the first to respond.

Kim brushed her hair out of her face. “Well… what can I say? I don’t tolerate bullies. So! Shall we find more tasks at Swift Solutions?”

Everyone walked down the street. From that day on, Swaine didn’t feel too self conscious about his naga traits. Whenever he did, he knew he had friends to remind him he was still human at heart.

The men, meanwhile, never said slurs again, as one glare from Kim was all it took to remind them to hold their tongues.


	4. Sensitivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's often the little things that can make a moment fluffy. 
> 
> ...oh and Fangface may have ended up in the hospital.

If you asked his friends what Puggsy’s most sensitive point was, you’d get a variety of answers: Biff would say it was his back, as not only did the stud do a lot of heavy lifting, but on car trips would more often or not have a werewolf sitting on his shoulders; Kim would say his shins, as he did a lot of running in most of their adventures, and often got kicked there when being overzealous in his flirting with women; Fangs would say that last nerve that was hit right before his friend would go into conniptions (and Fangface would no doubt agree).

If you asked his friends what Swaine’s most sensitive point was, you’d get different responses: Oliver would guess his naga-tail and belly, as it was always dragging along the ground, and he was always cautious to make sure no one stepped on it; Esther would say his arms and shoulders, as the thief didn’t exactly work out much and spent more of his time on the run; Marcassin would figure his eyes, as--- were it not for his naga senses--- they would be tired from his reading over blueprints and staying up late under a working on his guns; and Drippy would claim it was his neck, as ‘the thief always seemed to say certain things caused him a pain there’.

But unbeknownst to their friends, and ironically only to each other, there were different points that were considered very delicate to the touch.

For Puggsy, it was his stomach. He could handle a punch to the gut, but it was the gentle touches that brought out the sensitivity; it was psychological, he believed, as feeling his tummy being rubbed brought him a sense of comfort. He didn’t exactly know why, but whenever he was alone (or was sure Fangs was asleep whenever they had to share a room) he would circle his palm on his lower abdomen to soothe himself, often after a rough day of Lord knows what kind of chaos.

For Swaine, it was his back. Walking with a slouch, it would seem obvious, but it didn’t always show when it came to him helping carry items, much less the time he had to carry Oliver out of the Miasma Marshes during a retreat. But poor posture wasn’t the reason, but it was more connected to his naga traits--- when he wasn’t on two legs, his spine extended down to the tip of his tail, making it much more sensitive. He longed for a good back-rub most days, especially after a long trek.

They discovered each other’s sensitive points by accident one night.

It had reached a point in their on-and-off rivalry where, when they were sure no one was around or ended up having to share a room, they would just lie down and cuddle. Unless they had a huge argument or were not in a mood to be close to anyone, the stud would relax in the naga’s coils and they would hold each other--- mostly to relax after an exhausting day. (Hey, Esther and Biff _did_ say they needed to find a better way to blow off steam rather than cuss each other out and swap punches).

The stud and naga were lying on a couch in Puggsy’s apartment--- the younger man having decided to get his own place as, after getting fed up with Fangface’s midnight prowling, he felt he needed more space. They were watching _Psych,_ and halfway through the episode Swaine coiled around Puggsy, resting his head on his shoulder while still facing the screen, and absentmindedly started rubbing his stomach. Likewise, Puggsy began stroking his back.

Both let out a relaxed sigh, snuggling closer to each other. “…keep doing that,” Swaine murmured when Puggsy would stop his caress. “…don’t stop,” Puggsy would state when Swaine would cease his rubs. Often they didn’t really have to say anything--- only make a soft hum or give a gentle nudge--- and only stopped completely when their arms had grown too tired or they each fell asleep.

In truth, Puggsy really appreciated the naga’s affection. With his bulky muscles and wide girth, it was often impossible for someone to wrap their arms around him, much less squeeze him tight enough to not only make his back pop but also give him plenty of warmth; so he was lucky to have a friend who could wrap a strong tail around him and make him feel like he was a great big teddy bear.

Likewise, Swaine was grateful for the stud’s comforting embrace. Being practically an endangered species in his own world, not maybe people would allow him to come close, let alone hug him; Esther and Oliver were different cases, but the thief felt he had to keep it light and mind his own strength, or else risk crushing them in his coils. But with Puggsy’s large, masculine frame, it would take all of his strength to strangle the stud, so he could wrap around and squeeze as tight as he wanted.

It felt… perfect.

(Not that the two were planning on picking out curtains or anything. No homo, am I right?)

As the episode was nearing its end, Swaine drifted off first. Puggsy looked outside, seeing it was overcast with clouds, the fall weather growing chill; he forgot the thief’s reptilian genes made him sluggish in cold weather, thus explaining why the naga fell asleep before he did. Grabbing the thick blanket he kept draped over the couch, the loudmouth covered them both (making sure the tail was enveloped in fluffy material), before closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.

…

Unbeknownst to them, a certain werewolf was scaling the building to sneak in and ambush the stud--- however upon peeking through the window, that plan changed quick as he took out his phone to snap a picture.

…hopefully it was worth losing his grip and falling 200 feet into the rose bushes.

(It was.)


	5. In Which Drippy Shipped Swaine and Puggsy Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's tension between Swaine and Puggsy, and Drippy's sick of it! With a bit of sneaky tricks, he manages to get the pair to talk things out. 
> 
> Warning: Chapter involves feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this could have turned out better, but I couldn't figure out exactly how to make Swaine open up to Puggsy and how Puggsy would respond so... yeah just read and lend some constructive criticism.

_“Ow! What was that for?!”_

_“Sorry! I… I… never mind. I have to go.”_

_“Hold it, I want an explanation---“_

_“It’s nothing!”_

_“Whoa, calm down. What’s up with you?!”_

_“Nothing, just… nothing!”_

_“Hey!”_

_…_

_He ran out, not stopping until he was well hidden. He rubbed the side of his face, and winced…_

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Drippy looked between the thief and the loudmouth at least a dozen times that day. Something in his fairy senses was telling him there was a rift between the two (not that he ever considered them the ‘best o’ butties’ in the first place). They were trying to put some distance between each other--- or, more than they usually did.

Here’s what usually happened: when splitting into teams of 3, the two would roll their eyes or groan whenever they got stuck in the same trio (double groans when Fangs was on the team); when travelling, they would often argue or pick on each other, only lightening up when one of their friends got in on the conversation (or if they were teaming up against the Lord High Lord of the Fairies, the traitors!); and they often griped and moaned when they would end up having to share a room, Esther having to tell them to suck it up more often than not.

Now here what was happening as of late: when splitting into teams of 3, either the stud or the naga would fake a sprain or state they feel ill whenever one or the other was chosen to fight; when travelling, they wouldn’t talk or so much as make eye contact, and the only bickering they did was with Esther (Swaine) or Fangs (Puggsy)--- Drippy was sure something was wrong when neither of them would take a jab at him!; and whenever the group went to settle in for the night, Swaine would quickly ask to bunk with Oliver and Pugs would ask to bunk with Biff--- if he were desperate enough, would even ask Fangface if he wanted to share a room!

Currently they were sailing across the sea; due to lack of magicka, they had to travel ‘manually’ to the next continent, 4 on the dragon, Tengri, and the rest on a ship. Esther, Biff, Kim and Fangs all got dibs on flying, which meant Swaine and Puggsy were stuck on a ship together.

And blow out his lantern if the fairy was gonna let them go a whole voyage without addressing whatever issue that was dividing them! He knew the thief for long enough to know that if he asked what was going on he would just get a few snide remarks, and considering Puggsy was so similar that they could be practically soul-mates he knew he would get the same response.

So he had to be sneaky.

First, he made sure that all the ship quarters would be full so the two would have to bunk together. It was simple, as _The Sea Cow_ was small enough to only have 2 rooms for lodging (the sailors often ended up sleeping on deck or in a large hammock-filled room below deck). This task was simple--- he simply told Oliver the two of them should share a room tonight because the fairy missed the good ol’ days when it was just the two of them, feigning misery stemmed from the absence of his long-time friend. “Why, I still remember back when I was still cursed as a doll how ya could never sleep a wink if I wasn’t with ya! Now here ya are, full-grown ‘n’ feelin’ like ya don’t need youer ol’ pal Drippy ‘round…” he blubbered.

It worked. Near sunset, no matter how much Swaine or Puggsy pleaded, Oliver stated he promised Drippy they would share a room. “How come you two are so determined not to share a room? What’s wrong?” the wizard had asked.

“Nothing,” Swaine answered in a scoff.

“Nothing my eye!” Puggsy sneered, both of them heading to opposite sides of the deck, leaving the young wizard to sigh.

 _Fear not, Ollie-Boy! Drippy is on the case!_ The fairy thought with a smug grin.

He figured one of their stubborn companions would be spending the night on the deck, perhaps to either wait till their ‘roommate’ fell asleep or camp out on the deck themselves. To take a measure, he told Sindbah to make sure both men were in their quarters by moonrise. “Puggsy is catching a cold, see, ‘n’ Swaine has been losing sleep due to taking the night-watch so much. Esther ‘n’ Kimmy want them to both get proper shut-eye, like, just fer th’ sake of their health!” the fairy lied. “But, ah, don’t bring it up mun--- they get ornery ‘bout it, claim we treat ‘em like littlies. But from a ship captain they ought to listen without argument, eh?”

Success! Sure enough, Swaine was the one who was trying to stay up late on the deck, but Sindbah insisted he go to his quarters and get some rest.

Now, surely Swaine would try something else… and Drippy beat him to the punch.

“Mind if I bunk with you guys tonight?” the thief muttered.

“Oi, sure mun! I was just gonna go over some new joke material with Ollie-boy tonight! Cavity Club is havin’ an open-mic night this weekend--- I’ve got at least 3 hours o’ lines to try out. Most o’ them are puns, but ye don’t mind right?”

Swaine grimaced; he looked like he was mentally debating whether staying up listening to lame jokes (and Drippy was going to make SURE they were horrible enough to grate his ears), or suck it up and share a bed with Puggsy.

Hook, line, and sinker--- Swaine only sighed, muttered a disgruntled ‘nevermind’, and reluctantly entered the quarters he shared with Puggsy.

Drippy smirked at the achievement of his plan so far. Now all he had to do was make sure they stayed in there and sorted things out…

Not that he would get the chance, for a storm blew in two minutes later; all the doors and hatches were to be locked, supplies had to be tied down, and the sails had to be secured. The sailors all had experience in this area so there was no need to request help from the others, especially since the storm wasn’t as horrible as the one that had wrecked the ship before.

Drippy made it back to his room; Oliver was reading his Wizard’s Companion, pausing to lock the door and blow out the candle (so to prevent a fire if the rocking of the ship knocked it over). The fairy hopped up in his hammock, looking over at the wall that separated the two guest quarters. If only the walls weren’t so thick, he could eavesdrop on the matter in the other room.

A crash of lightning followed by thunder gave him the notion that it was best to wait until the next morning.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

If Swaine or Puggsy had forgotten their loathing for storms before, they sure remembered now.

The thief lied in his hammock, having to keep on human-legs in order to do so, while the loudmouth took the cot that he placed on the other side of the room. The ship rocked to-and-fro on the waves, making the two feel like they were on some sort of fair ride rather than in a room.

The stud tried to cover himself with the blanket, but sadly with his large form the blanket for the small cot was more like a towel--- not exactly enough to shield himself from the flash of the lightning. The gunslinger was no different--- his hammock made it difficult for him to curl up and cover his ears from the roar of thunder.

After Pugs accidentally ripped his blanket and Swaine fell out of his hammock from one of the thunderstorm’s bursts of symphony, the naga tore out of his pants (present company or no) and quickly took shape with his tail, the stud tuck-and-rolling into the coils as they began to curl. The thief buried his face in the stud’s chest, as the thick parts of his tail shielded them from the flashes of lightning, and strong hands covered his ears to block out the thunder’s roar.

The storm passed as quickly as it came, for within ten minutes the thunder began to fade and the lightening grew dim, the rain becoming a light trickle before the clouds departed and stars littered the dark sky amidst a waning gibbous. The room was rocked gently, the atmosphere calm.

The silence was broken, albeit softly, by Puggsy’s whisper. “So what exactly did I do to piss you off?”

He felt the coils clench around him, giving him the notion that the thief really didn’t want to talk; this was true, as Swaine wasn’t a man to talk about his feelings or share personal matters, so he couldn’t exactly bring up the reason behind his recent behavior.

Puggsy thought back to the moment it happened:

They were out on the field, doing a quest to collect 20 booster shoots for a merchant’s herbal medicine; knowing they grew well in the Rolling Hills, the group had spread out to collect some. The task proved difficult when a herd of ulk came stampeding through the pass--- the naga managed to avoid being trampled due to his speed (and heightened senses letting him know when the herd was coming), but the stud wasn’t as fast, ending up getting rammed by an ulk and knocked over. Thankfully the creatures were docile enough to run around him rather than trample him (especially since the man was built like a boulder!)

However the poor loudmouth ended up twisting his ankle in the ongoing run, and he regretted not taking Esther’s advice about stocking up on healing items whenever he got the chance. The thief slithered to his aid right away, and though having run out of healing items himself had some bandages on hand and a Waterbomb gem that was cool enough to ease the swelling; by the time he finished tending to the stud’s injury, it began to rain.

Not very thunderous as of recent, but from the thickness of the clouds Swaine could sense it would be a downpour. Helping support his friend, they reached a small shallow cave to use for shelter; Puggsy wishing the different world was kind to his cellphone reception so he could call one of his friends and tell them where they were at.

During the mild rainfall, the stud was allowed to rest in the naga’s coils and prop his foot up; he got very comfortable, listening to the gentle drizzle, relaxing as the naga sat up beside him. It was then he noticed how much paler Swaine was, much less the tired look in his eyes. “Hey, you feeling alright?” Puggsy had asked.

“Huh? I feel fine, why?” Swaine had answered.

“Ya look like you’re coming down with something,” He reached up to check his temperature, feeling his cheek…

And all at once the thief slapped his hand away, withdrawing from him by impulse.

He shook his sore hand. “Ow! What was that for?!”

Swaine cringed, looking stunned at his action, but also flustered. “Sorry! I… I… never mind. I have to go.”

“Hold it, I want an explanation---“ The stud stood up, but his ankle prevented him from moving too much.

“It’s nothing!” The thief turned away, taking short breaths as if suffering a mental breakdown.

“Whoa, calm down. What’s up with you?” Carefully he approached the naga, who at this moment was acting like a trapped animal.

“Nothing, just… nothing!” Without hesitation, Swaine bolted from the cave, regardless of the rain.

“Hey!” Puggsy looked out, trying to pinpoint where he had went.

Thankfully the rain had cleared up within minutes, and the others happened to be nearby; they found Swaine hidden in a thicket, and he gave some ridiculous excuse of ‘high strung naga impulses’ based on low nutrition.

But it was something else…

…

Puggsy throughout this time was trying to rack his brains of what it was. He never brought it up, having learned from Oliver that if Swaine were upset with him it was best to give him some space to cool down for a while.

Well, if he wasn’t ready to talk yet, it was fine by him. At least now the naga was letting the stud hold him.

As for Swaine, he was thinking back to that moment as well.

Truth is, when Puggsy touched his face, it triggered a memory he did not cherish…

He shut his eyes, holding back a wince. The stud felt his coils tighten slightly around him, as he noticed the naga had a heartrending expression. A traitorous tear had managed to slip down the thief’s face, and he reached with his palm to wipe it away. “Gascon…?” he whispered, only using the elder prince’s royal name when he both wanted to get his attention and when the situation felt serious.

Swaine’s eyes shot open---

_“Gascon… my son…” the Emperor rasped, reaching to stroke his eldest son’s face._

\--and he pushed away from the stud. “Don’t do that, idiot!” he sputtered, covering his cheek as if he had been slapped.

Puggsy paused a moment, finally realizing what was going on. “You don’t like your face touched?” he asked--- which he couldn’t exactly understand, as there were plenty of times when he poked, smacked, punched, or elbowed the thief in the face, and he did see one of Swaine’s familiars occasionally nuzzle or lick him on the cheek, and even Kim gave him a peck once as gratitude for the thief’s help in training them to fight without magic (as the gang weren’t exactly wizards).

“Well, of course not! After all, we’re both guys--- unless this is your way of stepping out of the wardrobe,” Swaine retorted, though his words seemed shaky at the beginning.

Puggsy arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “First of all, the term is ‘coming out of the closet’, and _no_ I _don’t_ swing that way. Second, my hand has given you a few whackifications before and others have shown it some affliction ( _a/n: he means ‘affection’),_ so why does a gentle touch bother you so much that you’d ignore me for a whole week?”

The thief had the mind to tell him to shove off and slither out of the room, but his coils were still wrapped around the loudmouth--- and it seemed the stud was keeping them in place with his legs. Not only that, but he had a feeling if he didn’t talk about it, Puggsy would be persuading Oliver to get answers--- the wizard would tell him it was Swaine’s own business, perhaps, but the Pure Hearted One would surely feel concerned enough to want to figure out the reason as well.

“Fine, but… you have to swear it doesn’t leave the room, got it?” The naga sighed.

“I promise.” The stud answered, resting his arms on his knees as he pulled up his legs, resting in the middle of the coils now.

Swaine took a breath, trying to figure out his choice of words. Puggsy didn’t seem like the type who would make fun for someone’s emotional pain, but at the same time the thief didn’t want the loudmouth to think him soft. Crossing his arms and keeping his eyes on the ground, he bluntly said, “My dad stroked my face before he died. Happy?”

The room went quiet again, as it was now the stud’s turn to find a response. He knew Swaine had ways of making things up, but he could tell when he was serious and this was one of those times. He didn’t want to lay on the sympathy, however--- his ol’ man was a total deadbeat who walked out on him and he felt pathetic whenever others would feel sorry for him--- so he had to consider his words carefully so the thief wouldn’t feel so sensitive.

“Ya must’ve been close to him,” The stud said.

The naga let out a heavy sigh. “…not really. For most of my life, I figured I was a disappointment to him because I couldn’t do magic like Marcassin could.”

Puggsy leaned against his coils, resting his arms on them. “So what happened?”

Swaine shook his head. “Found out too late I was wrong… actually, I pushed his hand away because I didn’t think he’d recognize me…” his eyes began to mist over, but he shook his head. “But yeah, that’s why I don’t want anyone caressing my face.”

The stud nodded in understanding. He gave it five minutes of silence before saying, “I can’t handle tight spaces.”

“What’s that got to do with my problem?” The naga questioned with indifference.

“After my ol’ man abandoned us, mom started bringing home guys. She’d always lock me in the hall closet, and wouldn’t let me out until the next morning. A couple times, she forgot I was even in there and I’d be banging on the door crying until she opened the door. By the time I was eight she started letting me hang out in my room, but… I still can’t stand enclosed spaces like that. It got worser after Fangface started trappifying me in his jaws.”

Swaine only let out a soft ‘hmph’, deciding to just end the conversation and go to bed. He felt Puggsy shift in his coils, the stud giving his scales a pat.

“But here I am, in the coils of a snake, and I feel fine.”

The thief rolled his eyes, giving the loudmouth an irritated look. “What are you getting at, already?!”

“I’m just saying, you can’t let certain things trigger you all the time. When I’m trappified in a cage or in a werewolf’s mouth, I lash out--- but if I’m getting hugged or slipping into a sleeping bag, I see no reason to feel discomfortable.” He looked at Swaine. “Your trigger is harder to deal with, obviously--- you don’t want anyone to touch your face because it reminds you of someone you lost.”

Swaine sighed, slithering over. “Got it in one…” he leaned against his coils, looking at the stud. “So, what, you think I should let others caress my features and get over it?”

“Nah. It’s a work in progress. If you manage to get a woman--- whoever the desperate brood may be--- she may caressify that ugly mug of yours and help you forget why the touch made you sad in the first place.” He rested an elbow on the coil, propping his face up with his knuckle. “But me? …Honestly, I just wanted things to stop being awkward and go back to our usual ‘torment each other in public, and hug when no one’s watching’ routine.”

The thief smirked, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I don’t crush you in my coils most of the time,”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you’ve tried a few times,”

“Good point,” He slithered over to the mattress, his coils unwinding from the loudmouth, but wrapping around him again when he joined him, both of them nestled together. As the quiet of the night drawled on with only the soft splashes of waves to serve as sound, and fatigue finally took his hold on them, he quietly whispered, “Thanks for the talk,”

The stud only nodded, too tired to speak any more, and drifted off hugging the naga.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Drippy had to give himself a pat on the back when the boat reached port the next morning, and Swaine was having a typical ruse with Puggsy. Only when the fairy would jump into the banter would they team up against him, as it usually happened.

It may be his own little secret, but he deemed himself the reason those two worked things out and got back on speaking terms again. Who knows? Maybe if he pulled a few more strings, those two would actually be friendly to each other! Maybe even get them to hug!

 _I oughtta take up counseling,_ the Lord High Lord of the Fairies thought as they met up with the rest of their friends.


	6. Sick Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two cases were the bara and naga each get sick. Symptoms include: grogginess, lethargy, coughing, sneezing, vomiting, and a strong urge to cuddle.

_“WAH-CHOO!”_

The sneeze echoed throughout the mountains from the village of Perdida, causing a few villagers to pause in their daily routines to look over for a moment, though Swaine paid them no mind. He simply wiped his nose on his sleeve and slithered on with the group, ignoring the fact that he caused Drippy to topple off his shoulder.

Esther gave him a stern look; being the healer of the group, she was always the first to check on someone’s health. For a 13-year-old, she was very perceptive when someone showed symptoms of illness (which came in handy in battle should anyone end up poisoned, cursed, blinded, nixed, or put to sleep), and for the last five minutes she had been no doubt taking note of his puffy eyes, pale complexion, sniffles, and how sluggish his movements were.

And a sneeze that large finally drove her to say, “Swaine, you need to go rest. You’re sick!”

“I’b fine,” Swaine tried to say through a runny nose, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

Kim reached up and felt his forehead and cheeks. “You’re running a fever. Go to the inn, and we’ll check on you after this errand,”

The thief wanted to argue, but instead ended up having a coughing fit. Fangs and Oliver walked with him to the inn, getting him a room at the end of the hall. The moment he reached the bed, the naga collapsed on the hay-stuffed blanket; his limbs felt like jelly and he felt as heavy as a mountain, giving him good reason to close his eyes and fall asleep.

Fangs helped Oliver lift the rest of his tail onto the bed, covering him and making sure he was comfortable. “Boy, that cold really took it outta him,” The scrawny young man said in a whisper, following the wizard out of the room. “I never thought snakes could get sick!”

“Oh yeah. Swaine is really vulnerable when it comes to colds,” Oliver told him. “When we went to Yule, he could barely move! Thankfully the village elder made him a special parka to keep his tail insulated against the cold.”

“Ooh, ooh, that would be one long sleeping bag,”

Their friends were waiting for them outside the inn; Esther had just finished telling Biff, Kim and Puggsy how when Swaine is in cool climates, he is more susceptible to catching a cold than anyone else due to his reptilian genes. “…so when the temperature reaches below 70-degrees, he gets sick; if it’s 30-degrees or lower, he becomes completely lethargic. Back in Yule, once we came down from the mountain, he ended up sleeping for three days straight!” she was informing them.

“Aye, ‘n’ during this time o’ the year, Autumnia tends to get a bit on th’ cool side--- an’ when ya live high up in th’ mountains, you’ll need an extra layer of clothing to keep from catchin’ a chill youerself!” Drippy added. “’Course, fer th’ rest of us, it’s not so bad now, but for ol’ Thief-Face it can hit quick! Doesn’t help when we go from one climate to another in a flash, like, his system needs a few days to adjust!”

“So Snake-Ass can’t handle the cold, huh? What’re we supposed to do, let him hibernate until we’re done?” Puggsy remarked.

“Yes… and YOU can keep an eye on him until we’re finished,” Kim retorted, poking Puggsy in the chest.

“Wha--?! Why me?!”

“Because we need Oliver, Esther and Drippy’s help on the errand, Kim and I are the only ones who know where to get a biscotti from our world, and we’ll need Fangs in case we get into any trouble.” Biff answered matter-of-factly.

“Why am I needed for the trouble part?!” Fangs demanded.

Puggsy groaned, rubbing his face. “Fine… but if this guy starts slitherin’ in his sleep or babbling from fever dreams, I’m outta here!”

“He normally just sleeps. …Oh! But make sure he stays warm,” Oliver advised. “When his fever breaks, he needs extra blankets. If anything, put a Fling-Flame gem under the covers, like a hot-water bottle.”

“Sure thing,”

Promising they would try to be back by that evening, the group disappeared with the _Fast Travel_ spell. Puggsy rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a sigh before heading back into the inn. He entered the room, seeing Swaine was fast asleep in the bed; he checked his temperature, finding he was still warm, and grabbed a cold washcloth to drape over his forehead.

He sat down in a chair, reaching into his own pack and pulling out a book to keep himself entertained.

…

He had read 10 chapters before he heard a soft moan. The stud looked over, seeing the naga had shifted in his sleep, the cloth off his head and the blankets sliding off his shoulders, his tail sticking out halfway off the mattress, and he was shivering something awful.

Puggsy walked over, checking his temperature. His fever had broken, which explained the shivering. Picking his tail back up he tucked it under the blanket, then grabbed a spare one off the shelf and draped it over him. He was leaning over to tuck it under his back when the thief’s arms reached up and wrapped around his abdomen, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed as the older man nuzzled against him.

“Warm…zzzz…” Swaine murmured in his sleep, squeezing him tight.

Puggsy sat back, letting out yet another heavy sigh, though this time he had to smile. Grabbing one of the blankets, he pulled it over the thief’s shoulder, then rubbed his back, deciding to do his best to keep the naga warm until his cold passed and he let go of the stud.

…Hopefully before their friends returned.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

There came a rumbling like a stampede down the hall, as Puggsy barreled his way to the bathroom. He barely had time to slam the door, and from the downstairs living room his friends could hear him hurling… followed by the flush of a toilet ten minutes later.

“Flu season,” Biff surmised.

“Should we take him home?” Marcassin asked; currently they were at Kim’s house, having been invited over for dinner and a movie.

“It’s alright if he stays here. I’ve been stocking up remedies for the flu since Biff got sick two weeks ago, and Puggsy is always so drained once he catches it,” Kim claimed, already rummaging through the fridge for a 7UP and grabbing some crackers from the cupboard. “He can stay the night in the guest bedroom,”

“Aw man, Pugs is sick?” Fangs groaned. “I hate it when he gets sick. He always lays around, and is so needy--- always wants someone around to do stuff for him, talking like he’s a little kid, whining about how his body aches…”

“Fangs. That was you. Last week. …After falling in the flowerbed while roller-skating.” Biff reminded him.

Fangs flinched, then crossed his arms. “…it was a _rosebush_ , and I was _skateboarding.”_

“It is best to stick around, though. Having the flu and being alone is a miserable experience,” Oliver replied, resting his chin on his palm.

“Although, we shouldn’t be in contact too much, otherwise we’ll cause the virus to cycle.” Marcassin advised.

Swaine shrugged. “I’ll keep an eye on him. I never get the flu,” he said.

Everyone paused and looked at him in surprise.

“Swaine? …Are you feeling alright?” Esther questioned.

The thief rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Look, the lot of you don’t want to risk getting sick, so it’s the best option. …Plus, I owe the loudmouth a favor, I figure this’ll make up for it.” Grabbing a bowl, the 7UP and crackers from Kim, he made his way upstairs.

“…That was weird.” Oliver had to admit.

“Aye, maybe Swaine IS sick ‘n’ is just tryin’ to hide it. Ah well, best if they stay sick together ‘n’ away from th’ rest of us,” Drippy commented. “I don’t suppose they won’t mind if we watch th’ flick without ‘em, right?”

“Says you! I’m not going to risk catching the flu--- especially one that makes Swaine nice to Puggsy! I’m outta here!” Fangs said in a panic, bolting out of the room.

Kim looked at the others. “I bet if Puggsy were here, he would say…” she began, then did her best Brooklyn accent. “’Get back here, Fangs--- idiots can’t get sick!’”

…

Swaine found Puggsy knelt by the toilet, the stud’s head lowered by the porcelain bowl; he was sweating and wincing, taking steady breaths as if he barely got out of a battle alive. “Oh good, I was worried it was coming out the other end,” the naga quipped; he grabbed a towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist as he changed his tail into a pair of bare legs in order to fit inside the small bathroom, kneeling beside the bulky young man. “Can you get up?”

Puggsy only shook his head, closing his eyes. After a minute he leaned over the bowl and began to vomit, though had already puked so much only bile came out. He coughed, taking in deep breaths and retching from the rancid taste in his mouth. When he was able to go the next five minutes without heaving, Swaine helped him to his feet--- flushing the toilet--- and handing him one of the sodas, if only to rinse out his mouth first.

Walking him to the guest bedroom, the stud lied down; the naga set the bowl on a nightstand should he need it, and set down the soda and crackers beside it when he felt his appetite return. Sitting down beside him, he changed back into his tail. With the tip of it, he reached across the room and turned on the television, changing the channel per Puggsy’s request until they found _M*A*S*H_ on. It then reached across the room to shut and lock the door so no one would barge in (especially if that ‘someone’ happened to be a werewolf).

The stud leaned against him, letting out a tired moan. The thief covered him with the blanket, the lower part of his tail resting at the end of the bed while the midsection lazily curved around the masculine man’s stomach. Whenever Puggsy felt a heave coming on, was in need of some 7UP, or felt like a cracker, Swaine was there to assist him. He did not talk much (which was a sure sign that the loudmouth truly was sick), and only spoke in gestures--- pointing when he needed something, or sitting up quick when he felt sick.

After twenty minutes, he felt his stomach settle, and fell asleep, ending up hugging the thief like a safety blanket--- which, the way his tail was wrapped around him, was a good description. Swaine sighed, but patted his head, watching television while waiting for the stud’s flu to run its course.

His only concern was one of their friends coming up to check on them… though if anything, he could play it off saying he was wrong about being immune to the bug.

With any luck, they would never call his bluff.


	7. Triggered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [[[WARNING: This chapter involves mentions of gun-violence, street shootings, and PTSD. Do not read if you are under triggering!]]]
> 
> Even when his life depends on it, Puggsy won't use a gun. Swaine gets fed up and demands to know why. 
> 
> NOTE: This setup was inspired by a M*A*S*H episode, in which Col. Potter and Hawkeye Pierce are caught in enemy fire, and Hawkeye (who refuses to use his sidearm) is ordered to shoot.

Puggsy sat in a nook, the hall practically empty save for the grunts that kept patrol; the gang from another world and time were welcome in the palace, however, after establishing they were good friends of the young emperor and elder prince. Only the sounds of the mechanized palace’s gears and steaming pipes built deep within kept the corridor from being silent, but he paid the cranking, hissing and grinding noise no mind.

_“What’re you doing?! Aim and fire!”_

He rubbed his face; it had been a long day. He and his friends were helping with a bounty hunt, as the monster they were facing was so large and strong, Drippy claimed they may need more than 4 people to take it out, even suggesting Fangface could take it on. However the werewolf ended up seeing a golden glim that reminded him of the sun and changed back into Fangs--- who was immediately knocked out with one punch.

_“Either pull the trigger or we’re all going to get killed!”_

Soon only he and Swaine were left standing. The naga had no time to strip off his pants and transform, as the monster had practically ambushed them from the top of a cliff--- even with his special instincts, Swaine didn’t see it coming. Thankfully, his gun was doing a bit of damage--- until it got struck out of his hand, and he was slammed into the side of the cliff. Puggsy was the only other one with a firearm.

_“Shoot, dammit! SHOOT!”_

His hands were shaking as he held the gun, aiming at the monster.

_*BANG!*_

He shot in the air, the monster turning his way and coming at him. Cursing, Swaine changed into his naga form, his pants tearing apart as he lunged at the monster, wrapping his coils around his neck and choking it until the creature disappeared in a puff of smoke to escape the fate of death. They focused on helping the others regain consciousness, though the whole time Swaine had given him a cold glare.

They had argued so much that they could have a row just from looks alone. Swaine, obviously, was questioning why Puggsy wasted ammo rather than using it on the monster; and Puggsy, shamefully, couldn’t bring himself to use a firearm if his life depended on it. The others were so relieved that the bounty was over that they paid no mind to the tension between the two; the naga and stud put up a charade for them so not to spoil the victory.

Puggsy stared at the golden, reflective floor. He felt like a weak, useless idiot. He couldn’t do magic like Oliver, Esther and Marcassin, couldn’t shoot a bow like Kim, swing a sword like Biff, change into a werewolf like Fangs; and for some reason the gang was unable to acquire familiars (Drippy claiming that the universal difference caused a clash so the little critters couldn’t quite ‘bond’ with them). A gun was the only thing left, and Swaine had--- reluctantly--- given him one.

The stud had been hoping he never would have to use it.

A reflection moved above his, and he looked up at the aforementioned gunslinger, who was giving him a bitter look.

Here it comes.

“Why didn’t you shoot?” Swaine demanded, with more venom in his voice than his fangs.

Puggsy stared at the ground. “I told you from Day One, I don’t use guns.” He muttered bitterly.

The naga sneered, crossing his arms. “So you’d rather your friends die than abandon some moral code. I gave you that gun, regardless of your beliefs, so you could defend yourself! Then the one time, the ONE TIME you need to use it, you waste it!”

The stud stood up, almost looming over the elder prince as he glared at him. “Guns do more offense than defense, pal! Everyone in my world thinks having a gun automatically protects ya--- but that’s not true! They can do as many gun-safety classes as they want, but unless they have mental-tests to make sure a gun-owner isn’t a total sociopath or background checks to make sure he ain’t some drug lord, thug, or crime boss out to cause harm, guns are what they always will be: small hand-held machines that take lives more than save lives!”

Swaine eased back a bit, but kept his ground. “What are you, some sort of activist? Look, I’m not telling you to whip it out whenever someone pisses you off, I’m just saying there are times when it’s needed—and this was one of those times…!”

“Was it?! I saw you burst into naga-form and take it down--- we could have had Fangface distract it long enough for you to change, and you could have stranglefied that beast in no time! There’s other ways to win a battle without the use of firearms!” He was yelling now, his voice echoing down the hall.

Swaine looked down the hall, seeing a couple grunts coming forth, but he waved at them to be at ease. He turned back to the stud. “Calm down, will you? Why are you so afraid to use a gun?”

Puggsy sneered. “Tch, I’m not afraid…”

The naga gave him a look. “Pugs. I can read emotions. I could see your hand shaking back there.” He slithered around him, arching up the midsection of his tail behind the stud’s legs, motioning him to sit back down. He then coiled around him, resting a hand on his shoulder as he sat beside him. “Just tell me what’s wrong. It would be easier for me to understand and give me less reason to urge you to use a gun,”

The stud sighed, rubbing his face. He held the tip of the tail, running his thumb along the rough upside while his fingers felt the smooth underside. It was hard for him to go into conniptions whenever Swaine was coiled around him (unless the naga was trying to strangle him, which happened more often or not). After he eased down enough, he spoke…

“I grew up in a rough neighborhood, before I met Biff, Kim and Fangs. When I was twelve, I was playing ball with a couple of friends… all of a sudden there were gunshots ringing out and people screaming; we ducked in cover--- it was a drive-by, and looked down the block as a black car sped by, some gang of punks having their shotguns aimed out the windows and firing like crazy. That’s all they did--- drove up and down the street, making U-turns, driving over yards, gunning down everyone.

“It got worser; the gangs on my street took it as a declaration of war, and before I knew it they were firing from the alleys, behind porches, up in apartment windows… One of my friends ended up shot in the back, trying to get inside a house. It was twenty minutes before the police arrived, but to a kid lying curled up on the ground sobbing his eyes out and praying to be a missed target, it felt like hours. All I heard were sirens, and gunshots, and yelling… then the car drove smack-dab into a squad car, the driver having been shot in the head. I waited fifteen minutes to see how long the silence would last before looking up… I saw dead bodies on the sidewalk, lawns, in the street. 10 people had been shot and died from blood-loss, including my friend, and only 3 were injured. The rest of us were scarred for life.

“I thought it would be over, until I found out one of my friends was carrying a gun around, claiming he had to be armed in case the next nutjob went around firing. He was para-annoyed, ending up whipping it out in school when some bully tried to rough him up, and he got expelled. All I could think about how those gangsters kept firing in defense, but only caused more damage. …I could never pick up a firearm without thinking about how it affects people--- whether causing harm or giving someone the nerve to cause harm. …So that’s why I can’t use one.”

Swaine was quiet a moment, before resting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you think I’m like one of those thugs? Because I assure you, I’m not. Even in my thieving days, I never used my gun to rob people--- I always used pick-pocket methods, its less messy and more sneaky, heh. ...I only used it to fend off monsters that came after me, and in battle I make sure it’s aimed at my target, even moving to a side to make sure a stray bullet doesn’t hit any of my friends. My ol’ man _strictly_ taught me how to use a firearm, and to only use it _when I need to._ Otherwise I use my familiars, or my naga skills.

“I will agree that having a gun doesn’t guarantee safety, and even if more than one person owned one it could result to a shoot-out with more casualties. But that doesn’t mean everyone who doesn’t own one isn’t likely to kill--- people could carry daggers, poison, or even know techniques to kill with their bare hands. Guns… just do harm quicker. You’re right, people should get tested better before being allowed to carry one.

“If you want… I can teach you how to handle one. At least, should you end up in a position where you have to use it—and I mean as a last resort--- you’ll have some confidence.” Swaine held out his hand. “Otherwise, you can give me your gun, and we can find you a weapon you’ll feel comfortable with whenever you come here,”

Puggsy took his words into consideration. “Let me sleep on it. I don’t want to make any decisions until the shock wears off,”

Swaine nodded in understanding, and slithered with him to the guest chambers. “…by the way, you owe me a new pair of pants,”

The stud scoffed, having to smile; he put his arm around the naga as they rounded the corner. “Whatever you say, Snake-Ass.”


	8. The Bara's Closed Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****WARNING!!!!***** THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, DEPRESSION, ANGST AND FEELS! DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT!
> 
> ...on the bright side, fluff! ^^
> 
> Song is called "Memories" by Disturbed. Yes, this chapter includes a song. 
> 
> *additional note: no cast members were harmed during the writing of this chapter... but they are pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK, I just felt like writing something angsty...
> 
> (Puggsy, I'm so sorry! If Swaine can't give you [more] hugs after this, I will!!!)

It was all an accident.

A horrible, tragic, life-scarring accident that would haunt him for the rest of his days…

They were on a case, like what they used to do in their late teens. Out to stop some madman from causing supernatural/sci-fi trouble. But they underestimated how powerful this guy was.

He was defeated, but the cost was too great.

Fangface--- he transformed back into Fangs at the wrong time…

_“PUGGSY! HELP ME! HE--!” Fangs screamed as he fell, silenced abruptly after when he landed in the shark infested waters, the waves turning red within seconds._

Biff was trying to keep the car steady but…

_The convertible swerved after the tires blew out, the leader hitting the brakes trying to stop but the call was stalling, and he went over the edge of the cliff, a crash and explosion echoing in the mountains._

And Kim tried desperately to undo the knots---

_The trap was set off too soon. Kim tried to untie the net when their foe came too close, but he spotted her and drew his gun, taking aim and firing. She dropped to the ground seconds later._

Puggsy was the only one who survived, and with a switchblade he kept in his pocket he stabbed the bastard who caused the death of his friends.

…

He spent some time in therapy after that. Now 25, he felt it was time to move on. But there was no way he could live in this world without his friends…

So he decided to leave it behind.

It was crazy, he knew, but Biff, Kim, and Fangs/Fangface had always helped him through tough times. The modern world was always changing, getting worse every day, and without them around he felt the only other option was suicide.

But that’s not the choice he made.

No, he was leaving this world for another, returning to one with more familiar faces.

There was a special way for the gang to go to Ni no Kuni; often the gang only went there to relax or get a change of scenery, if not just to visit with their alternate-dimensional friends. Queen Cassiopeia had crafted a stone they could use to open up the Gateway from their world, and visit whenever they pleased.

Opening the drawer, the deep-blue diamond-stone sat in a small box, having not been used since after the funeral; Oliver, Esther, Swaine, Marcassin and Drippy had visited beforehand and heard the news, offering their condolences to the family and friends of the deceased, though Puggsy kept his words short. He knew only Swaine could sense his emotional turmoil with his naga-senses, but understood that the stud wanted to be left alone.

But in this world he never felt alone… memories of his friends lingered everywhere, and he kept expecting it all to be a bad dream, that at any moment his friends would come through the door, or meet up with him somewhere… hell, every full moon, he expected to be attacked by a werewolf! Yet no one was coming, no one was there… only bittersweet memories of those he lost.

He couldn’t stand it anymore.

Opening the Gateway, Puggsy stepped through to another world, and once there smashed the gem under his foot as a vow to never look back. 

…

At first Oliver was surprised to see Puggsy walking around Al-Mamoon with Esther, the stud claiming he was looking for a good job; he had already tried the Hootique, Cawtermasters, and doing odd-jobs for merchants, but in the end Swift Solutions was the only place that could help him earn a living. He ended up taking up bounty hunts and running errands, but such tasks were not paying enough for him to afford a place… let alone find the right location.

Eventually he moved on to Ding Dong Dell, where the weather was fair and the beasts of the land were none too threatening. Just his luck a new shopkeeper opened business and was in need of a helping hand. ‘Robin’s Wands’ it was called, and it specialized in crafting and mending wands, as well as selling other artifacts, now that many people were getting back to using magic again. His job was mainly just keeping things organized, since he wasn’t much of a wand-crafter nor knew any magic, but it paid good and he was allowed to sleep in the upstairs room until he could afford a place of his own.

But at night his past haunted him. In his dreams he saw his friends, drifting further away from him, or flashbacks of that horrible accident…

Thus why he grew detached from others. He had always been told that when you lose someone, it makes you appreciate the people you still have in your life… but he was never told how hard it would be to socialize again, without the lingering fear of reliving that loss.

Maybe that’s the real reason he left his world behind.

He had friends all over the world back there--- from circus stars to royals--- all who came to the funeral or emailed, called or sent a video-chat to share their condolence and how much the others meant to each of them… but it just made him feel like isolating himself. For the last four years, the only one he spoke to was his therapist, not really opening up and--- when no progress was being made--- was recommended to another… thus when he decided to just leave.

And he came to Ni no Kuni because there were only a handful of people who knew him by name, all who lived far away and were busy with their own affairs. In a way, he was surrounded by strangers and friends, none who he hung out with much or saw on a regular basis. Oliver and Drippy were the only ones who dropped by from time to time, often for something to help fulfill a request, if not to see how the parallel-immigrant was faring.

One day, after having lived there for two months, Puggsy was in charge of handling the register while his employer was forging a magic staff for King Tom. It was a slow, rainy day which rendered the shop practically empty, giving the stud reason to slouch against the counter, looking out the window at the drops that hit the glass. He would have fallen asleep if the *ding ding* of the bell above the door didn’t snap him back into his senses, and he saw Oliver and Drippy walk in once again, this time accompanied by Swaine!

The naga had changed a bit in the last four years; his hair was cut short but still a mess, his skin was a bit darker-tanned, he no longer had a tired look in his eye, he seemed to be growing a thin mustache to match his stubble, and he had a new set of traveling clothes that were void of wears and tears. He was walking on two legs too, though it made Puggsy curious as to how long his naga-tail had grown over the years.

“So it’s true. You did move to our world,” Swaine replied; despite how long it had been since they last spoke, Puggsy still recognized his voice (being the only thing that didn’t change about the thief), yet at the same time it felt new, like when someone hears an old song they hadn’t heard in years.

“Good to see you again, too.” Puggsy remarked in turn, though managed a smile as he reached over and shook the ex-thief’s hand. “I see you’re doing well.”

“Aye, he’s been taking his role of Hamelin’s chief consul seriously these days.” Drippy answered.

“Chief consul, huh?”

“Yeah. Marcassin felt Swaine--- er, Gascon--- was more worthy of the title, rather than just referring to him as the elder prince.” Oliver answered.

“Hey, I can speak for myself, guys!” Swaine answered, a blush to his face. He cleared his throat, turning back to Puggsy. “But that’s right. I’m now the chief consul of Hamelin.”

“Well, ‘Chief’, what brings you by?” Puggsy asked.

“Marcassin’s birthday is coming up, I figured I would get a new scepter crafted for him. I figured while I was at it, I could see if you had any materials I could use in crafting a new gun.” The now-chief consul browsed the store, looking around.

“My boss is working on something, but you can fill out one of these while you wait.” The stud reached under the counter, pulling out a blank form sheet for the order. It listed what kind of arcane-sign the wizard/witch was most accustomed to, what length they preferred, what rank class they fell in (A, B, C or S), as well as their name, age and address; extra paragraphs were for extra details, such as color, symbols, specific designs, etc.

Swaine nodded, taking it over to a desk and filling it out; Oliver and Drippy browsed the store. It grew quiet, and Puggsy went back to listening to the rain. He felt a bit awkward--- normally Oliver just came in, asked him how he was doing if not picking up/dropping off something, and in five minutes he was alone with his thoughts. But with the ex-thief around, the stud’s mind was split in two: whether to talk to him and attempt to catch up, or pretend to be busy and keep a social gap open.

In truth, he really didn’t want him around…

“Done,” Swaine spoke up after five minutes of uncomfortable silence. He handed the sheet back to Puggsy, then decided to browse around.

“Oh! Before I forget…” Oliver spoke up, turning to the stud. “Esther said Castaway Cove is having its annual _Seaside Festival,_ and wanted to know if you wanted to go with us, Puggsy. It starts in three days and lasts all week.”

Puggsy’s mind raced; he had his back to the young wizard, pretending to take inventory on the back shelves. Castaway cove was a small village, but that meant that during a festival there would be less space; it would be a social gathering, and he never went to any alone--- he was always with his friends, and he was trying to avoid thinking about them, remembering how those days were over.

(Not to mention in Castaway Cove, everyone was required by law to wear a swimsuit 24/7).

No, he wanted to be alone… but he didn’t want to brush off the young wizard like a jerk. “Eh, I don’t think I’ll make it. I’m the only other one who works here, and I doubt my boss will let me have a full week off yet.” He answered politely with a shrug.

“Oh, okay. Well, if you change your mind, maybe we’ll see you there.” Oliver replied decently.

“Agh, c’mon mun! You’ve been living here for two months now ‘n’ haven’t gotten wind to getting out ‘n’ ‘bout!” Drippy exclaimed, hopping up on the counter. “I mean, we drop by every other week or so, but it’s always the same ol’ ‘How do’s and nothing else! And working two whole months without taking a week off, you’ll suffer a burn-out, Pugs! It en’t healthy to stick to a routine all the time, you need to be a little more spontaneous! Ye can’t just settle in a rut because you lost--- OOMPH!”

Swaine had clapped his hands around the fairy’s mouth, lifting him off the counter and keeping him smothered against his abdomen. “He said ‘no’, Drippy! Stop prodding!” the chief consul scolded, keeping a firm hold on the Lord High Lord of the Loudmouth’s head/body while the lantern-faced friend kicked and wiggled.

“Sorry about that, Puggsy. He’s been a little high-strung lately.” Oliver apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. They made their way out the door. “We’ll see you around!”

“See ya,” Puggsy replied. Once they were out, he grimaced and slumped against the counter, planting his face on one arm while his free fist slammed down on the counter. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to rake in his feelings and calm down.

His fist landed on the form Swaine filled out. The stud decided to look it over to at _least_ get his mind off what just happened. Apparently, the chief consul knew his brother quite well as he filled out every box AND went into excessive detail about the design he had in mind.

Right when he was about to take it to his boss, he noticed something else written at the bottom--- small, and in this world’s alphabet. Oliver had taught him and the others how to read in the ancient language in order to help them read signs or decipher some ancient slabs, but otherwise the English language was used frequently around the world--- possibly more than in America itself! 

Puggsy squinted, reading the coded message, being thankful he still recalled what he had been taught. The chief consul had written:

_“Meet me by the waterwheel at sundown”_

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The shop closed up by sunset, and Puggsy walked outside. For the rest of the day he had been debating whether to ignore the message and head up the back stairs to his small apartment to curl up on his small cot to count how many more guilders he needs to earn for his own place… or to heed Swaine’s call and see what he wanted despite he really wanted to avoid him like the plague.

He looked up at the sky; gray clouds still lingered but the rain had stopped, the air a bit cool. Chances are, if Puggsy never showed up, the chief consul would get sick of waiting in the cold, give up, and go home.

On the other hand, if Swaine stuck with old habits, he would probably track down the stud to ‘see if he were alright’, or stop by again asking ‘if he had seen the message at all’.

Sighing, Puggsy walked down the lane to the waterwheel, sitting by and waiting. Five minutes went by, turning into ten, the sun being hidden behind the kingdom’s walls and casting a shadow over the town, the clouds and archway making the spot he stood seem really dark. “Screw it,” the stud muttered to himself, turning to go back…

Not noticing a long, scaly tail draping down, until it wrapped around his waist and hoisted him up!

“Gah! Hey!” Puggsy gasped, thrashing until he was pulled on top of the bridge… and there was ol’ Snake-Ass himself sitting by with a smirk. “Dammit, Swaine! Don’t do that!”

The naga set him down, having to chuckle. “What can I say? I missed freaking you out,” he responded.

The stud brushed himself off, glaring at the naga. “Whatever. What do you want? I’d like to get some sleep,”

“Heh, you looked like you got plenty at work today.” Swaine slithered up to him--- and Puggsy realized he was right about the tail having grown in length, now 35 feet long! He leaned against the wall of the bridge, casually looking over the edge. “…Oliver was hoping you’d accept his offer, you know.”

“Yeah, but I’m too busy…”

“Oh, yeah, the shop was really packed today.” Swaine replied in sarcasm. He turned towards the stud. “Festivals are a pretty big deal around here; ever since the Three Kingdoms united, every town has one--- the smaller villages are often overlooked but are still visited, but with large kingdoms like Ding Dong Dell, Al-Mamoon and Hamelin, it’s almost like a merchandising extravaganza! Shopkeepers from all over will set up a booth representing their products, and since the shop you work at is still new, there’s no way your boss will want to pass up the opportunity! He may have you hold down the fort here… or he might ask you to help set up shop in Hamelin for _‘Autumn Fest’,_ next month. _”_

Puggsy cringed, but kept his cool. “So what’s the big deal? If I don’t go to the one in Castaway Cove, I might be at one a month later.”

“Yeah… but will you be better than you are now?”

The stud paused. “W-What are you talking about? I’m---“

Swaine shut his eyes, sighing. “Pugs, don’t lie. I could sense your emotions from outside the shop. They’re as strong today as they were back then,” he looked at him, right in the eye, his normally-brown eyes glowing green in the dark. “…You miss them.”

Puggsy clenched his fists, his jaw tense; he turned on his heel and ran, but the naga was quicker, cutting him off. Before he could shout, his eyes were locked with Swaine’s--- and the naga’s eyes were shifting in colors. “What the…?!” he gasped, having never seen this happen before. He couldn’t look away, and before he knew it he felt drowsy… slowly he closed his eyes…

…

When he awoke, they were in a room at the Cat’s Cradle, and he was lying in the naga’s coils; Swaine was tapping him to wake up. Puggsy gave a jolt, moving away from him. “What the hell did you just do to me?!”

“Calm down, I just put you in a trance. There was no way you were going to stick around and talk, so… I had to persuade you somehow.” Swaine replied with a shrug.

“You creep!” He tried to get up, but found the coils were wrapped around his waist and legs. “Let me go, or I’ll report you for kidnapping!”

Swaine rested against his coils, just looking at him. “You talk differently, now.”

“What?!”

“Well, you would say words like ‘creepo’ or ‘kidnappify’. But today when speaking I never heard one word of your vocabulary.”

“I’ll give _you_ some vocabulary, you piece of---!”

“And you’ve lost weight,” The naga’s coils tightened around his stomach a little, making the stud gasp. “There was a time when you were totally ripped… but you’re lacking muscle, mostly in your stomach. Haven’t you been eating, properly?”

Puggsy struggled a bit, but the naga proved too strong. “S-Shut up! I eat just fine!”

Swaine just looked at him. “Puggsy. Please. Everyone is worried sick about you,”

The stud stopped struggling, giving him a glare. “What are you talking about?!”

“Esther said you just came to Al-Mamoon one day looking for a job and a house, finding you covered in bruises and scratches from all your bounty hunts--- you don’t have any magic and you can’t use familiars, but you needed the money to stay here. Oliver came along and took you to Ding Dong Dell, but he could tell something was wrong, and has been dropping by almost every week to see how you were faring; Drippy claims you’ve closed your heart…”

“’Closed my heart’? …W-What the hell does that mean?!”

“The way he explained it was how people become so hurt that they’re afraid to let others get close to them. …Esther’s soulmate, Myrtle, was like that--- she got sick, her parents were fighting, and all she could do was look out her window and watch others, too afraid to step out. Her father was lacking Kindness, and that was the root of the problem--- after Oliver mended his heart and helped him fix things did she find the courage to open her heart again. …Since you’re going through the same thing, they want to help--- and Oliver is about at his wit’s end about it, so I decided I would step in and try.”

Puggsy crossed his arms--- though whether it was out of being stubborn or to protect his own heart was unclear. “…my heart is just fine… and I don’t want you guys casting any spells on me just because you think something is wrong---“

“I don’t think, I know. I told you, I can sense your emotions! You’re burying them in deep…”

“Tch, you sound like my old therapist.”

“Pugs---“

“Look, I know you’re all concerned, but… lay off, will ya?! I’m trying to move on with my life, I don’t need everyone trying to force sympathy on me!”

The naga loomed over him, making him sink down in the coils a bit. “If you’re trying to ‘move on’, why are you pushing people away?! Why did you just run off to an entirely different world?! Because if you ask me, all you’re doing is running away--- and take it from someone who had once decided running off alone to start a new life only to end up in the gutter, Pugs, _it fixes nothing._ You only end up getting worse until… you break your own heart, and all that awaits you is a Nightmare.” He rested his hands on either side of him, the stud lying deep in his coils now, the naga right above him. “So you can either be like me and hide your feelings and keep kidding yourself, or you let it out and _really_ move on.”

In response Puggsy’s hands shot up, shoving Swaine off of him. He tried to stand up but the coils tightened around his waist and legs. “Let me go, you damn snake!” he shouted.

“Not until we talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about! What I do with my life is none of your business! I don’t want to be around anyone!”

“So you want to die alone?”

_“I’ve been dead since my friends died!”_

Silence fell between them. Puggsy began to tremble--- this was the first time since the accident that he mentioned his loss. He let out a shaky breath, covering his mouth; Swaine’s coils loosed around him as the stud got on his knees, tears forming in his eyes. The naga could sense all his emotions, ready to burst out at long last.

“…they’re dead… they’re dead…” Puggsy whispered, beginning to sob. He sprawled out on the ground, burying his face in his arms, and just bawled. “I could have done something! I… I saw it all happen! But I was too late--- every--- damn--- time! I… I want my friends back…!”

A hand rested on his shoulder, and automatically he sat up and hugged Swaine tight, the naga’s tail coiling around the both of them as Puggsy wept. He gently shushed him, rubbing his back as the stud let out his tears.

…

It was a long while until Puggsy’s eyes were dry, red rims being the only proof behind his tears alongside the stains on Swaine’s shirt. They had moved onto the bed, the stud curled up in his coils as the naga held him close. “It just… it was hard living there, waking up every day expecting them to come by… especially Fangface, he always would appear unexpectedly. I went to therapy, but couldn’t bring myself to talk about it to a total stranger… I didn’t want to open up to any of our friends either… and I just detached from people altogether, coming here where few people knew me and nothing could remind me of the ones I’ve lost.”

“…Would you want to be forgotten?” Swaine asked in a soft tone. He stroked his head, his coils giving him a gentle squeeze. “It hurts… trust me, you’re not the only one… but remembering them helps the pain go away, too. It’ll take some time, and you’ll probably cry often, but at least it’s proof that you cared about each other. And they wouldn’t want you to go through life like this,”

“I know… I know… I just miss them… four years, and I still can’t get over the fact that they’re gone…” The stud wrapped his arms around the naga, holding him as close as possible. “You guys… you remind me of them too. T-That’s why I didn’t want to hang out, because… I dunno, it just hurt.”

“Does it hurt now?”

“Like hell… but it’s easing up…” Puggsy shut his eyes, listening to the beating heart within the naga’s chest. “I… I want to stay here, just for a little while.”

“That’s okay. How long do you want to stay?”

Puggsy shrugged. “Maybe… after Autumn Fest.”

Swaine nodded. “You’ll like it,”

“…Swaine?”

“Yeah?”

“Can… you entrancify me again? I’ve been having trouble sleeping,”

“Of course,”

“Thanks…” Puggsy looked at him, giving a firm glance. “But no funny stuff--- if you make me act like a chicken, I’ll make a belt out of your scales!”

Swaine chuckled. “Don’t tempt me.” He stared into Puggsy’s eyes, luring him into a trance. To make sure he slipped off into a deep slumber, he began to hum a song…

_‘Take the ones you love_

_And hold them close_

_Because there is little time_

_And don’t let it break your heart_

_I know it feels hopeless sometimes_

_But they’re never really gone_

_As long as there is a memory_

_In your mind_

_So now go do the best things in life_

_Take a bite of this world while you can_

_Make the most of the rest of your life_

_Make a ride of this world while you can…’_

When Puggsy went slack, drifted deep in a relaxed slumber, Swaine pulled the blanket over the both of them, keeping close to him should he have a troubled dream. “Things will get better, Puggsy, just don’t give up. Keep living your life… for them.” He whispered, drifting off himself.

For the first time in many nights, Puggsy’s dreams were filled with peace... and within them he saw his friends one more time; in his sleep he shed a tear, smiling.


	9. A Homesick Naga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPECIAL NOTE!!!!: This chapter is based on Elwynn and Ninja's "Crossover Chaos" series! The works are posted by KatTheFirePhoenixWolf *thank u for the kudos btw!* so I recommend you check out that story if you care to understand anything about this chapter! Otherwise enjoy your confusion! XD
> 
> Okay, onto the summary:
> 
> Being in another universe far from home really makes one homesick, and Swaine knows this better than anyone. Thankfully, he's not completely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and Elwynn own our oc, but the entire world-construct of Crossover Chaos fully belongs to him. I just own Luna and Kiff. 
> 
> ...seriously go look up the series to learn more! It starts off as crack, but eventually gets edgy--- still pretty cracked, but with a plot! 
> 
> Socks: Is THAT what those things are called??
> 
> GAH! How did you get into my author's notes?!

It was a quick mission. A couple of Bone’s men were trying to cause trouble on the planet Acisren-X, the peaceful Khlspa (that is, aliens that happened to look like octo-mermaids) having caught them trying to kidnap their young. Of course by the time the EMCU and ODF got there, the matter was already handled, as the two men were strangled into silence, having underestimated how protective the aliens were.

Still, Puggsy decided to beat them like piñatas to make sure they learned a lesson about child kidnapping. Socks, Ron, Chase, Vinnie, Smudge, Luna and Swaine tried to get him to calm down, but in the end it was his beloved Elwynn who got him to chill out. Kiff managed to read their unconscious minds, and stated there was a ship hidden away.

Ron, Socks, Puggsy, Elwynn, and Vinnie went to handle it while Luna, Swaine, Kiff, Chase, and Smudge kept an eye on the village. By the time the ship was dismantled and their foes were locked away, it was past sundown. As thanks for their help, the Khlspa offered them to stay in one of their treehouse suites near their slime-lake.

Ron decided to hit the sack immediately; Vinnie, Socks, Smudge and Chase decided to go goof around somewhere, several Khlpsa children wanting to introduce them to their games; Luna and Elwynn decided to go get something to eat; and Puggsy, Swaine and Kiff decided to lounge by the slime lake to relax.

“So, what is this stuff made of, exactly?” Swaine asked. Despite having been stuck in this universe for ten years, there was still too many things he had to learn.

“Slime… it’s actually used for cleaning and moisturizing,” Puggsy replied. “Some say it’s cleaner than any purified water--- you just can’t drink it,”

“*slurp*--- what?” Kiff questioned, having been drinking some slime through a straw! Suddenly his blue-face turned green and he ran to throw up.

“Oh for the love of--- Kiff! How many times to we have to tell ya not to eat everything?! You’re not frickin’ Kirby!” Puggsy hollered, racing after his son.

Swaine shook his head, looking out at the slime lake. It appeared to glow in the night, and dipping the tip of his tail in he could feel how warm and smooth it was, feeling tempted to jump in himself.

“Marcassin! Look out!”

The naga-mechanic went rigid, and he turned sharply. “M-Marcassin?” he gasped.

…watching as a female Khlspa chased after a youngling who was running around the playground nearby, the child almost having been hit by another child on a swing. The child stopped and was scolded, only to run off again, the female sighing and just telling him to be careful.

Swaine slumped against a tree, his long naga tail ‘scrunching’ up in front of him.

Only those he worked with knew, but to all else he was a foreigner to this universe. He had been cast to this world by a twisted warlock back home, the fiend having been on the verge of death before pulling one last trick. When the naga found himself in a world filled with magic he knew nothing about, creatures that he never saw even in his nightmares, and all kinds of technology, languages, cultures, and legends that took him years to figure out--- and he still had too much to understand!

He had been a total fish out of water; when he tried to find help to get back home… well, everyone he turned to for help deemed him insane, thinking he was a naga with a mental problem, and he was sent to a clinic. Elwynn was worked there, and he thanked God the trans-male was willing to listen to him! (He didn’t quite understand and asked Swaine to explain everything, but after a couple years he was the one who managed to convince the authorities that the naga wasn’t considered a total nutcase!). Luna, a blue-skinned, green eyed, blonde haired alien-of-sorts (Lunivian, they were called, though she always called her species a ‘Lunae’), was a patient there as well, due to some issues of self-harm and gender dysphoria; she was a bit quirky, but much to the thief’s surprise she had heard of his world somehow, which gave him hope.

Eventually, he was recruited as a mechanic for one of the EMCU’s teams, being trained under the Dalmatian-grendel, Ron, and eventually found settlement in this strange world. However, he continued to look for some way to get back home, worried about his brother and friends…

It had been over a decade… and he didn’t realize how long he had been gone until just now. So much probably changed--- depending on how time travelled differently here. For all he knew, centuries could have gone by back home! Were his friends still trying to find a way to locate him, or did they eventually have to give up? What if they spent their final days trying to find him--- suppose Oliver went to his own world thinking he was somewhere there, searching every continent? They might have passed away, not knowing how far he was from home…

Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes. Not wanting to be seen crying, he hid in some bushes, coiling up and burying his face in his arms. Normally he waited until he was alone with Luna, but being reminded of home--- of the ones he may never see again--- weighed heavily on him and he could not hold back his sobs.

…

…

…

Kiff stood up, the Lunivian-Colmare having finished vomiting. His yellow eyes peered over to where Swaine once was. He looked up at his father. ‘ _Something is wrong with Swaine,’_ he told him with his telepathy.

 _What is it?_ Puggsy thought in response.

_‘…He’s homesick.’_

_Well, yeah, I know this planet is new, but we won’t be going back to Arda until---_

_‘No… I mean his home-universe, Ni no Kuni. The place he was cast from with different magic?’_

_…Oh._

_‘…I’m trying to mentally call him, but his mind is too clouded. I’m going to go find Mom and Step-Dad to see if they can talk to him. Can you stay by him? He’s in the bushes over there,’_

_Why don’t I go get them, and you go stand by him?_

_‘Because the plot says otherwise,’_

Across the street a wall crumbled. “…Nice going, Kiff. *sigh* Alright, you go get your mom and Elwynn, I’ll go check on Swaine.”

Kiff gave a nod, and teleported away. Puggsy walked over to where Swaine was, the bushes tall and thick enough to hide his long, scaly frame. It had grown a little quiet in the area, as a few Khlspas were heading home for the evening, and he could make out the hushed sobs of the naga. He didn’t exactly want to just stand there and wait for the others--- everyone would pin him as an asshole if he just stood there listening to one of his friends crying.

Ducking down, he crawled into the bushes; the naga lifted his head, picking up the sound. “Oh, Pugs… it’s just you,” Swaine whispered, quickly wiping his eyes.

Puggsy sat down beside him. “…Kiff sensed something was wrong. He said you were homesick?”

The naga nodded. “…I heard someone call their kid ‘Marcassin’--- that’s my little brother’s name,”

“Oh… What was he like?”

Swaine shook his head. In the past he would go on about his siblings, but nowadays he couldn’t bring himself to talk about them. For one thing, which was most important, they had enemies almost everywhere with powers that would rival Oliver’s--- should they find out too much about his world, who knows what they would do to his friends? Plus… it hurt too much to talk about them anymore, as it only reminded him of how far away he was, and how long he had been gone. “What’s it matter? I’m in a whole different universe… chances are, eons went by back home and he’s probably dead now…” he muttered, tears filling his eyes. “You know… I had made a promise to him years ago that, if anything happened to him, I would always come back home to help him… but now… I can’t keep that promise!”

He broke down sobbing; it wasn’t like him to open up, but this world changed him like that--- it had ways of making him unleash feelings he wanted to keep buried, and they all centered around his loved ones right now. He missed his pure-hearted wizard Oliver, his sweet-but-snarky bard Esther, his little brother and great sage emperor Marcassin, his isolated but reformed flower-loving witch queen Cassiopeia… hell, he even missed that lantern-faced loudmouth Drippy! He missed them so bad it hurt, the pain so severe that no enemy they faced could match it…

Large, strong arms wrapped around him just then, as Puggsy pulled him into a hug, his Colmare-markings glowing in the dark as he comforted the naga. “…A lot of us were taken from our homes, Swaine. You’re not alone on that, okay? And you can bet your long, scaly ass that we’ll find some way to get you back home. No matter what happened to your friends and family since you’ve been gone, they wouldn’t want you to give up--- if they could see all you’ve done to help us thus far, they’d be cheering you on! I mean, scaring that ass-hat Marlow so bad he pissed himself, helping us figure out old-school technology, and those Trick-Shots you used inspired a few techniques for our weapons too!

“Plus… I think you’re needed here. You’re always there for Luna and Kiff--- hell, you took care of my son before I even knew he was born, AND helped reunite us! You’re a great help to Ron in the shop when his illness makes him feel weak—heck, he’s even grateful he has one more person to help him deal with Vinnie’s lewd jokes. You work hard on all kinds of machines, never back down in battle, always protect those around you… and it’s tough for the team to find someone like that, in a world where people either live in fear or give in to corruption.

“It’s okay that you miss them… we always have someone we miss. Whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, don’t hide though--- just find one of us. I promise no one will laugh at you for missing your home--- I’m pretty sure Luna would set them on fire if they did!”

Swaine sniffled, nodding as he let the Colmare comfort him. “Thanks, Puggsy…”

Puggsy patted him on the back, helping him stand back up, and they walked out of the bushes…

Seeing Luna, Elwynn, Kiff, Socks, Vinnie, Smudge, Chase and Ron standing there--- Luna, Chase and Elwynn had bubbly eyes while the rest gave Swaine a look of sympathy.

“How long have you been standing there?” Puggsy questioned.

“EVERYONE HUG THE SNEK!” Vinnie hollered, and in a blink of an eye the naga found himself covered in a group hug!

“I-I’m fine now, guys… really!” Swaine sputtered, though had to smile.

Once the group pulled back, they headed to the tree-houses that the village gave them lodging over for the night. Luna linked an arm with Swaine, while Kiff—shrinking down to his chibi form--- got a ride on his snake tail.

The naga looked up at the stars. _I miss you lot… but I’m doing okay. I just hope everything is alright with you back home, too. We’ll see each other again, somehow. Just hold on, alright?_ He thought, wishing that he was like Kiff and could send his friends a telepathic message back to his world. A large hand rubbed his back and he looked up at Puggsy, who gave him a reassuring smile; the naga returned it, deciding to focus on the here and now.

He was far from home… but he had friends who made him forget that often.


	10. Ship, Ahoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Well to make up for the feels from the last two chapters, it's only fair that I should write at least ONE chapter where the bara and naga hook up. 
> 
> Basically, Puggsy walks around shirtless and Swaine feels weird about it. (Or, "The chapter where we get some bara fanservice from Puggsy and Swaine can't deal with it!")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus my guilty-pleasure ship sets sail. Enjoy~
> 
> :3c

Swaine felt invisible in the modern world.

No one else could see him, as people from his realm were unseen/unheard by locals of the modern world; the only reason the Fangface Gang could see him was because they had been to Ni no Kuni. (Actually the werewolf was the first to see Swaine, Esther, and Drippy due to his sharp senses… it wasn’t until Oliver brought the gang to Ni no Kuni were they able to see them clearly).

He liked to use this to his advantage sometimes… mostly by teasing, arguing with or insulting Puggsy in public until the stud would snap at him, making others believe he was going crazy. However he had to quit as Oliver reminded him about how _he_ felt in Motorville when he’d talk to the group and any passerby would assume he was talking to himself.

Another perk was how he could wander around as a naga and not worry about people staring. In his thieving days he always had to keep low, until he met Oliver and gained the courage to face the public. He still got weird stares back home--- at least here he could go anywhere he liked without having to worry about people looking at him in fear or disgust. Hell, if he were still a criminal, he would use the opportunity to sneak inside people’s houses.

But another benefit came some time after visiting the modern world.

He was free to express his true feelings.

And it was because of that loudmouth stud who charmed him.

…

They were in a Cat’s Cradle in Castaway Cove; the naga only wore his orange cover-shirt and yellow sash around his waist, his swim-trunks hanging up over a chair. The stud was wearing a pair of black, blue-flamed swim-trunks, and it was the first time the naga had ever seen him shirtless. He always thought the loudmouth had a nice build, but seeing it bare was a whole different view.

The stud was visiting on his own, claiming he needed a getaway from his job, the cold weather back home, and the spontaneous werewolf-attacks. After hanging around Castaway Cove with the thief (who had been speaking with some sailors about making deliveries for Hamelin at the time), he was ready to curl up and get some sleep, lying down in the naga’s coils.

“Could you put a shirt on before you use me as a bed?” Swaine scoffed as he rummaged through his pack--- always checking to make sure his guns, guilders and other possessions were there, as the Inn didn’t exactly have doors that locked.

“Hey, do I complain about you taking your pants off with every transformation?” Puggsy retorted, folding his arms behind his head and making himself comfortable. “What’s the big deal?”

“The ‘big deal’ is that I don’t want to curl up with someone who’s practically half naked.”

Puggsy smirked. “Would you rather I be _totally_ naked?”

Swaine blushed, turning away in annoyance. Quick as a whip, he pulled his coils away from the stud, making him flip over and land on the mattress with an, “Oomph!”; the naga then transformed back on his two legs, pulling his trunks back on. “Moron,” he muttered, walking over to the hammock that hung in the room (each room in Castaway Cove’s inn had at least 1 hammock with a bed) and lying down.

It didn’t last long, as Puggsy walked over and flipped it over, making the thief hit the floor with a *thud!*.

“Ow! You bastard! That hurt!” Swaine snapped, standing up while rubbing the back of his head.

“Hey, you ripped your tail right out from under me!” The stud sneered.

“Yeah, but you were still on the mattress! Plus you deserved it for that smart-ass remark!”

“Well, if you hadn’t been cocky yourself, I wouldn’t have said it.”

“If you’d put a shirt on, I wouldn’t have said anything!”

“In case ya forgot, we can only wear swimsuits here!”

Swaine was about to retort, but paused when he realized that---during their arguing—their faces were a little too close. He took a step back, crossing his arms and turning away. “Yeah well, they sell cover-shirts like this,” he tugged at his attire. “So you don’t have to run around all bare-chested every moment,”

Puggsy scoffed, hands on his hips. “Just because you’re squeamish about showing off your body, doesn’t mean I am.”

“Tch. Clearly,”

The stud smirked. “Actually…” he approached the thief. “Why don’t you take yours off?”

Swaine went rigid, looking at him in horror. “What?! Hell no!”

“C’mon, we’re both guys!”

“That’s what makes it weird! …Back off!”

The stud continued to approach him--- within seconds they were running around the room, jumping over the bed or ducking under the hammock during the pursuit! Had the governor of Castaway Cove not strictly forbade the use of weapons, the thief would be shooting Puggsy with every Trick-Shot he had! “C’mon, take it off!/No!/What’re you so shy about??/Nothing, get away!/Just do it!/I will inject you with snake-venom!” they were shouting back and forth.

(Meanwhile, other patrons of the inn were listening to the ruckus, a bit startled and confused.)

Finally Puggsy managed to catch Swaine by the collar, tugging the shirt right off! “Ha! Got it!”

“Give it back, or I’ll turn you in for sexual harassment!” The thief snapped.

“Oh, please! I used to do stuff like this with the guys in the high school locker-room all the time! It’s just a shirt. Stop being such a girl!”

Swaine clenched his fists. “Yeah? How’s THIS for a girl?!” He then pulled down his pants, changing back into his naga form and whipping his tail forth to strangle him!

But Pugs was quick to avoid his coils, and instead caught him by the waist--- though the tail managed to wrap around his ankle and trip him. Both toppled to the floor with a *Thud!*, wrestling around only to end up tangled in the tail!

Taking a breath they stopped their struggle, analyzing the situation. Puggsy’s right arm was outstretched, holding the shirt back, the left arm pressed against his and the thief’s sides; Swaine was reaching for his shirt with his left hand, while the right was pressed against the stud’s chest, and he was trying to get in control of his tail again.

The naga felt his face heat up, realizing he was wrapped up against the stud. “…Idiot,” he sneered, struggling to get loose.

“Calm down already, will ya? …Ow! Watch it, your tail is constructing around my kneecap!” Puggsy told him.

“Well it’s your fault! If you weren’t being such an asshole, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“If you weren’t being such a pansy about me wearing a shirt, it could have been avoided!”

“You’re such a jerk!”

“And you’re such a wimp!”

Their lips crashed together after that. Both kept their eyes shut tight, five seconds passing before they pulled away. They looked at each other a moment, before the naga closed his eyes and leaned forth, the stud allowing him to kiss his lips again. During the tender embrace, the thief managed to get his coils to relax, carefully unwinding from them and curving carefully in a comfortable circle. The stud rested his hands on the naga’s shoulders--- realizing he still had his shirt, he pulled away for a moment and draped it around his slim shoulders, before wrapping his arms around him and continuing the kiss. The thief eased into his embrace, wrapping his arms around him and feeling the muscles on his back, the muscles that had been driving him crazy from the start.

After a minute or two, they ceased the kiss, the naga being held on the stud’s lap, head rested on his shoulder. They registered their action, purely based on sudden impulse, but regret didn’t seem to be on either of their minds.

“…So does this mean I don’t have to wear a shirt?” Puggsy lightly quipped.

Swaine nudged him, but held his hand. “I’d appreciate it--- unless you want this to get completely out of control,”

The stud scoffed, but smiled, rubbing his head. “Fine… I’ll buy one tomorrow. I’m running out of sunscreen anyway so I’ll need something to prevent a sunburn,”

The naga rolled his eyes. “…Puggsy? Just… don’t tell anyone about this, alright? I don’t want anyone to know, yet…”

“Hey, I’m keeping quiet too--- I’d never hear the end of it if our friends found out us rivals made out,” he patted the thief on the back, both of them deciding to climb into the bed. Puggsy decided to heed his wishes for the night and put on a shirt (figuring he could just take it off before he stepped back outside), just to help Swaine feel more comfortable. “Kinda surprised though. I didn’t expect ya to be the homosensual type,” ( _a/n: that’s Puggsy-speak for homosexual)_

“I’m as surprised as you are. I always figured I was asexual--- I was never interested in anyone, romance never crossed my mind… honestly, I’m wondering what these feelings even are. I mean, seriously--- we kissed just because I couldn’t stand seeing you shirtless! Just… is it lust, is it admiration, what is it?”

Puggsy sat up on one elbow, facing him. “Maybe you’re just demi. Y’know, not really having a preference until ya meet a certain someone. I wouldn’t really call it lust... you just discovered an interest.” He pointed at him. “Now if you try copping a feel, then I’ll have to hurt ya,”

Swaine rolled his eyes. “What about you? I didn’t think you were into men.”

“I’m pansensual.” ( _a/n: “pansexual”--- I think you get it xD)_ “I’m not really much into romantified relationships either, but I’m willing to give someone a chance.”

“I see,”

“So… you wanna wrap around me, or are you gonna keep your coils stretched out?”

Swaine slipped off the bed. “Close your eyes, I’m going to change and put my pants back on.”

Puggsy arched an eyebrow but did so. A few moments later he felt Swaine slip beneath the covers and pull him close, and he opened his eyes just in time for the thief to kiss him one more time, before turning his back to him, grabbing his arm and wrapping it around his abdomen.

“How about this time, _you_ wrap around _me?”_

The stud smiled, nuzzling against him as he hugged him tight. “Fine… but tomorrow night, I get to be the little spoon,”

“Fair enough,”

With that, they drifted to sleep.

…

Currenly, Swaine was walking beside Puggsy as they walked through the modern world. It had been a month since they started going out, and things were… pretty much the same. They still had their banter, their arguments, would swap insults--- but near the end they always made up with a hug, kiss, or a smirk to let the other know their comments were all in jest.

However it was only in secret. They had only told their friends just recently--- Kim, Biff, Marcassin and Esther were happy for them (“Well it’s better than hearing you two fight all the time!” Esther quipped), Oliver was somewhat confused about it and Drippy tried his best to explain it (“It’s a common story, mun--- two people fight all the time, then decide to fall in love. Happens all the time!” the fairy said), and Fangs… was still in shock that two people who fought constantly ended up kissing. (“It’s like I’m in one of those cheesy romantic-comedies!” he stated… before getting swatted by Puggsy’s hat).

But in public they kept things strictly plutonic. Unless something serious was going on, would one of them hold the other’s hand in a way of saying, ‘It’s alright, I’m here for you’. In Ni no Kuni, where everyone could see them, the thief always felt self-conscious about being part of a ‘couple’, as everyone in the world knew him as the rugged thief who wasn’t prone to affection.

For Puggsy, it was because he didn’t know how people there would react to a same-sex couple. The world was practically medieval, and if its laws were anything like the laws back in the dark ages, chances are he would be putting them both at risk. He was thankful that Oliver, Esther, Drippy and Marcassin were alright with it (though the young Emperor DID strictly advise that the stud treat his brother with the upmost respect, or else suffer a hex every waking moment of his life.)

But in the modern world, where one of them were invisible, they could hold hands, kiss, and snuggle--- granted it made it look like Puggsy was losing his mind, but the stud decided to stop questioning his sanity after he kissed the thief.

They were in his backyard now, the weather having warmed up a bit for the naga to visit. “So, you think this will work out?” the thief asked, lounging up in a tree in his naga form while the stud was setting up a grill; they were having a cookout with the others that afternoon. “I mean, it’s either face the public in my world, or let everyone in yours think you have an imaginary boyfriend,”

“Hey, it’s still early in our relationship. I say we wait a year, then decide.” Puggsy answered. “Biff said we can’t let what others think decide our relationship,”

“Oliver said the same thing… Marcassin is even going to inquire opinions of other rulers about it, under the guise of some concerned citizens asking. If it’s discouraged, then he and the others will help keep my secret and I’ll just live here forever,”

“Heh, well that’ll work--- but if the neighbors consider me a danger to myself and others, I’ll have to move to YOUR world,”

Swaine sighed. “…why did we have to have a complicated relationship?”

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me.”

“All because you wouldn’t put on a---!”

A wolf howl cut off the conversation, and from over the fence Fangface came leaping over--- no doubt having transformed recently and ready to pounce on Puggsy. “There ya are, Pugs! You’re mine now!” the werewolf exclaimed, racing over.

Puggsy braced himself as the werewolf leaped at him--- but in a split second the naga’s tail caught Fangface by the ankle and pulled him up! As Swaine slithered down, the single-fanged furball was hoisted high.

“Actually… he’s _mine_.” The thief retorted, sprawling out on the ground with a smug look on his face.

“Dang it, Swaine! Let me down! *grr* You dirty snake--- ever since you two started going out, you always ruin the fun! *snarl!*” Fangface snapped, clawing at the air while he was hung up like a piñata.

Puggsy grinned. “…Y’know, I think this’ll work out just fine.”


	11. Never Take A Swim In A Glowing Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this has been sitting in my files for a while now, and I just got around to finishing it XD 
> 
> This chapter was inspired by that scene from Jumanji: The Next Level--- you'll see how if you've seen the movie. Basically, I wanted a scenario where Puggsy became a naga and Swaine got a bit of muscle for a change, and here's the result!
> 
> ...in other news, I need to find the muse to update "Wizards and Werewolves"...
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy the chapter!

*Thud!*

“Son of a---! Argh…”

Swaine looked back, watching as Puggsy pushed himself up by his palms and launched himself back upright… only to fall backwards on the long, brown-black spotted snake tail that had currently replaced his legs. The thief walked over, kneeling beside him. “Need help?”

The stud gave him a look, but considering he had been making face-plants for the last ten feet, he had to swallow his pride. “…yes,” he grumbled; the elder prince offered him a hand and helped him stand upright, linking an arm around his shoulders as he assisted the newly-transformed naga down the tunnel.

It wasn’t that much easier, as Swaine would flinch and stifle a hiss of pain as his bare-feet walked on the rough, stony ground. He was thankful, at least, that he had a spare set of pants in his pack.

Puggsy would have offered to let the thief borrow his own shoes considering he wasn’t using them, but sadly they had ended up lost in the underground lake that had caused his transformation.

There had been strange rumors about a cave located in Teeheeti; it was located across a stream, having been disguised as just the side of a mountain, but when Oliver leaned against it he fell through, revealing it was a hidden entrance! The others went through, finding the lake at the end of the tunnel. The strange thing about it was the mysterious glow.

When stepping closer to get a better look, the edge caved in and the two fell into the lake! Puggsy screamed, suddenly in intense pain, and Swaine felt his muscles aching; both of them managed to get to solid ground…

Thus when Puggsy found that he had suddenly become a naga, and Swaine was completely human… and gained a bit of muscle, chest hair, and his unruly main had grown past his shoulders. There was another tunnel, and the others claimed they would find a way down to them. The new-naga and thief decided to meet them halfway.

…That is, once Puggsy was able to get the hang of moving.

“It’s all about balance,” Swaine told him, grunting a bit as his heel landed on a pebble.

“Ah, lets just sit down. I can’t slither an inch without tipping over, and you’re too tender-footed for these cave floors,” Puggsy groused, pulling away from the thief--- having to catch himself on a wall before he fell over. His body curved and coiled, as a way for him to sit on the ground.

The older man walked over and sat down on top of his scales, rubbing his bruised soles. “Agh… I knew I forgot to pack something…” He rubbed his arms next, as they still ached for the sudden muscle-growth. Granted, he wasn’t as bulky as Puggsy was, and he now noticed the younger man’s own muscles were a bit smaller. _(a/n: basically how they look in canon)._ “So… did that lake make us switch body types or something?”

“Maybe, I dunno. I just know that I’m half-snek and you don’t look half-starved anymore.”

Swaine rolled his eyes; he noticed the sleeves of his shirt had torn during the change, and he was thankful that he had taken off his jacket due to the tropical climate, not wanting his token-attire more ripped than it already was. He sunk down into the stud’s coils, leaning against them and running a hand along the scales. In response, the tail seemed to curl around him a bit tighter, Puggsy giving a cringe.

“Hey, I ain’t a pet python! Don’t be rubbing my scales!” The younger man scolded.

“C’mon, you always rub mine.” Swaine scoffed, resting a chin on his arm as he continued to stroke the smooth hide. “Feels strange, being on the other side of the spectrum.”

Puggsy shifted, leaning on up of the other side of the coils; he arched the tip of his tail up, cocking an eyebrow as he wiggled it around. “I don’t know how you handle it. It feels weird,”

“It took me a while. When I first transformed… well, I was scared as hell and in a panic for hours. I was only 15 at the time, far from home, and couldn’t exactly find help since so many people took one look at me and ran off screaming. I ended up running away into the Deep Dark Woods, thinking I had to live the rest of my life there, be like the other creatures that roamed the forest--- hide in the foliage, live off the land, avoid civilization…”

The naga-stud rested his cheek on his fist, listening to the story. “So what changed your mind?”

“I met Old Father Oak. He’s been around for centuries and told me all about the ancient rage of nagai, how there used to be a whole village of them until one day the species ended up practically extinct--- so many having decided to keep on two legs and live amongst other humans that their bloodline dwindled. He claimed that my transformation must have meant I was a descendant of the race… well, as it turns out, during a trip to the past, my father revealed that my mother had been a naga, and I took after her side of the family. …You know that the ironic thing is?”

“What?”

“I actually hate snakes,”

Puggsy scoffed, chuckling. “Sheesh. …Ironically enough, the others told me I turned into a werewolf--- I accidentally drank a potion, my memory got fuzzy… I had no clue what happened until I changed back. Fangface said I was one ugly werewolf--- I must’ve looked like him, heh.”

“Heh, well… you’re not exactly attractive as a naga, either. Or human, for that matter.”

“Does that make me your soul-mate?”

“If it does, I must have been cursed.”

“I figured I’d be the one cursified,” Puggsy looked at his tail. “…speaking of which, do you think this will wear off?”

“I don’t know,” Swaine rested against the coils, looking down the tunnel. “I just wonder if the others will find us soon,”

The naga-stud nodded, rubbing the thief’s back. He could feel the outline of the shoulder-blades, noticing just how much muscle he had gained, having a theory that if they stayed in the lake long enough Swaine would have been completely ripped and the younger man would have become a twink. Yikes, shove that mental image out of mind…

“I better learn how to move around. Sitting around won’t help the others find us quicker, and God knows what could be hiding in this tunnel,” Puggsy finally decided.

“Can’t disagree with that,” Swaine replied, standing up as well. He grabbed a roll of bandages, wrapping up his feet in order to help protect his soles from the rough ground. He then took Puggsy by the hands, guiding him as he walked backwards. “Just push forward a bit; it’s all in the hips,”

“I don’t recall signing up for dance-lessons,”

“Shut up or I’ll let you fall on your face,”

“Alright, alright…”

After a few steps, Swaine let go of his hands, letting Puggsy get the hang of his balance; once he got the movement down, the naga-stud was able to get a grasp on the other skills he had--- he could see in the dark, had strong hearing, and was quick as he was moving ahead faster than the thief…

Though, most of the reason for the latter was because the ground was still too rough--- plenty of gravel, crevices, and stickers pierced through the bandages; and the older man ended up having to stop and unwrap his feet, finding the heels were starting to blister.

Puggsy slithered in front of him, ‘kneeling’ down and thumbing at his back; Swaine sighed but accepted the offer, climbing on and hanging on to his shoulders as the naga-stud carried him down the tunnel.

Around the bend they found the exit leading to the beach. Puggsy could detect the other’s voices from up the hill, and called out to them, hailing them over.

…

After explaining to the others what the lake had done to them, Marcassin deduced the lake’s magic caused others to switch talents or traits. “So if they go back in, they’ll turn back to normal?” Oliver asked.

“I am not sure. If anything, it might extend the effects. We will have to look into it more before we take any risks,” Marcassin stated. He looked at Drippy. “Mister Drippy, would you happen to have any knowledge on this sort of enchantment?”

“Nah, mun, ‘fraid I’m as clueless as th’ rest o’ ya.” The fairy answered, crossing his arms as he paced. “We fairies know all sorts of funny magic, but we’ve never heard of something that makes people trade traits! ‘Course, this explains th’ weird happenings going on--- creatures ending up with different tricks, fairies suddenly having a muse for different talents… Why, I bet if they jumped in together, Fangface would become a wizard ‘n’ Ollie-boy would become a werewolf!”

“Cool! Can we try it, Oliver?? Can we? Huh? Huh?” Fangface asked, his tail wagging with excitement.

“Uh, um, n-no thanks, Fangface. I don’t think Miss Leila would like me to come home covered in fur,” The Pure-Hearted One politely declined.

“Why don’t we ask Cassiopeia about it? She’s been around for centuries, she might have heard about something like this!” Kim suggested.

“We can ask. But for now, we should rest for the night. It’s already sundown,” Marcassin pointed out.

“Maybe if we’re lucky, the lake’s magic will wear off overnight.” Biff hoped aloud.

“Will you two be alright for the night?” Esther asked their two transformed friends. “How do you feel?”

“My feet ache, and Puggsy just figured out how to get around. I think a good night’s sleep will do us some good,” Swaine answered; upon noticing the bandages on his feet, the bard used a healing-hymn to take care of his blisters. “Thank you,”

“I’ll transport us back to our camp. Everyone ready?” Oliver asked, taking out his wand.

Fangface quickly raised his paw.

“…You can’t turn into a fairy either, nit-wolf!” Puggsy snapped.

The werewolf lowered his paw.

…

Once they were back at their camp, everyone decided to have a quick dinner and go to bed. Staying at the Inn at the Fairy Grounds was out of the question, as the tiny establishment did not have enough room for everyone. Biff advised that Swaine and Puggsy should share a tent, just in case something else changed.

Of course, they noticed changes before they got settled; Swaine, who had gone up to 29 days without eating (as he only had to eat once a month), was able to eat a sandwich and feel satisfied. Puggsy… well, Fangface at first tried to eat him after seeing food (yet another strange habit the werewolf had), but the naga-stud’s newfound prowess helped him to prevent so, catching the werewolf around the legs and hanging him upside-down.

While Fangface yelled and cursed, ranting about his best friend demolishing his werewolf-pride, Puggsy ate up to 17 sandwiches, and was still hungry! “It’s because you’re a naga, now.” Esther explained to him when the naga-stud was bewildered at his large appetite. “Swaine has to eat his weight in food once a month,”

“Really? No wonder I’ve eaten half the provisions,” Puggsy quipped.

“PUGGSY! LET ME DOWN!” Fangface growled, still hanging by his ankles. “Ooh! Ooh! I’ll tie your tail in knots for this!”

The naga-stud ignored the werewolf. “So, what other things should I expect? In case this becomes a long-term thing.”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed already, you’ll have heightened senses.” Swaine informed him, slipping on a pair of sandals from Oliver’s bottomless bag (as the wizard carried the weather-appropriate gear for everyone). “You’ll have advanced speed, strength, and agility as well.”

“Yeah, I got that part down.”

“Pugs! I swear if you don’t let me go in five seconds, I’m going to turn your scaly hide into a belt! Ya hear me?! A _belt!”_ Fangface continued to snarl.

“You’ll also have to avoid cold climates, though I have a special parka you can wear for the winter season.” Swaine continued, while trying to see if his jacket would fit over his now-strong arms (the sleeves were a tight fit, so he folded it and put it away). “The Village Elder in Yule had it personally made for me. It’s made of 100% Tomte fur,”

“Tomte? …Oh, that’s what those yeti-like guys are called, right?” Puggsy asked, arching an eyebrow. “Wait, they made it out of their fur??”

“Yeah, they shed a lot, and all the fur is sterilized and used to make a lot of things!” Oliver spoke up. “Blankets, parkas, pillows… and since it’s all white, they can dye it different colors too!”

“Hey! HEY! What do you guys think I am, a party lantern?! Get me down from here!” Fangface hollered.

“Alright, Puggsy, that’s enough. Let Fangface down,” Biff firmly told the naga-stud.

Puggsy rolled his eyes and did so, the werewolf standing upright and—due to dizziness--- stumbled a bit. “Ooh, ooh, Swaine, are there certain ways to pulverize a naga?!” Fangface growled, pounding his fist into his palm as he glared at his best friend.

“Sure--- first, look at this Sun Drop.” Swaine answered, holding up the yellow gem.

Immediately, Fangface changed back into Fangs. “Huh? What are we all doing out--- HOLY SHIT! PUGGSY’S HALF SNAKE! _WHY_ IS PUGGSY HALF-SNAKE?!” The scrawny young man screamed, leaping into Swaine’s arms; he paused and looked at the thief. “Ooh, and who put Swaine on steroids?”

The thief dropped him. “(You guys have GOT to do something about his memory lapses.)” He muttered to the rest of the gang.

“I’ll explain everything to you, Sherman. We’ll have to share a tent tonight, after all.” Marcassin told the confused young man. “But to summarize everything, Gascon and Puggsy ended up falling into an enchanted body of water that caused them to exchange certain characteristics, resulting in their transmogrification.”

Fangs scratched his head. “Um, okay… but can you use words that _I’ll_ understand?”

The young Great Sage sighed, looking at his brother. “(It’s going to be a long night…)” He walked over to their tent. “Come along, Sherman. Goodnight, everyone.”

“’Night, guys. We’ll see you in the morning,” Oliver stated, as he, Biff and Drippy went to their own tent.

“If you have trouble with anything, let us know.” Kim said to her transformed friends, as she and Esther went to their tent.

Puggsy and Swaine went to the remaining tent; the naga-stud coiled up, and the thief sat down in the center. As they got comfortable, the gunslinger informed his friend of a few other facts about his species: they were very susceptible to music (he found that out when he ended up entranced by Esther’s harp), could read emotions, sense nearby danger, could put others in a trance, some were venomous, and--- based on his own personal experience--- became very protective of those they became emotionally attached to.

They were also needed ten hours of sleep, which became apparent when Puggsy’s eyes began to droop. “Heh, sorry if I’m boring you to sleep.” Swaine scoffed with a smirk.

“You’re not… you’re not.” Puggsy yawned (showing the fangs he had grown as well for a moment). “This is all a lot to take in… really… I’m just exhaustified all of a sudden. Normally I’m able to stay awake for the whole night!”

“It’s your new metabolism. You need 10 hours of sleep a day--- not all at once. That’s why I take long naps most of the time, ha ha.”

“I figured you were just a lazy bum… *yawn* But I’ll take your word for it…” Despite his sleepy expression, the naga-stud couldn’t stop looking at his tail. “…I doubt I’ll be able to go back home like this.”

Swaine paused; he forgot the gang came from an entirely different world… but from the stories they’ve told, something like this shouldn’t be too shocking! “You travel with a werewolf. Do you really think people are going to care that you’ve transformed?”

“Well, my mom ain’t a fan of snakes, if that tells ya anything.”

“Funny. …Don’t worry. We’ll get this sorted out, then you’ll go from being an ugly naga to an ugly person.”

“Only if I end up looking like you…” With one more sleepy yawn, Puggsy wrapped around Swaine, resting his head against the thief’s abdomen. “…really weird hugging you now… since you ain’t a twink…”

Swaine stretched, leaning against the thick part of the tail behind his head, patting the naga-stud on the back as he closed his eyes, relaxing into the snake cuddle. “Goodnight, Pugs.”

The two drifted off to sleep.

…

In the tent next door, however…

“Okay, explain it to me one more time?” Fangs asked, sitting up on his sleeping bag.

Marcassin was lying face-down on his own, his head covered by the pillow. “Fangs… just go to sleep…” he groaned.

_(A/n: Anyone who wants more Fangs and Marcassin interactions, leave a thumbs up in the comments XD)_

_(Marcassin a/n: Oh, like you need the encouragement! T_T)_

_(Me: How did you get in here?!)_

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The next morning, the group went to the Ivory Tower and informed Cassiopeia of their predicament. “Oh, yes, I have heard of this sort of phenomenon!” The Witch Queen informed them, laying out a scroll. “It is known as the _Talent Pool._ It appears once every 500 years, then disappears after a month. Wizards back then would collect its water as means to use against their enemies, or to trade abilities amongst each other in order to try new battle strategies. …Sadly, they were forgotten after the fall of Nazcaa, and no one learned of them since then.”

“Is there any way for us to undo the effects?” Swaine asked.

“Oh, yes. You can just jump back in and you’ll return to your normal selves. Otherwise, the effects wear off after 12 hours,”

“Neato! So we can just go back to the lake and you guys can switch back!” Oliver told his transformed friends.

“Thank goodness… maybe I should look for my shoes while we take a swim, too. How long can nagas hold their breath underwater?” Puggsy asked.

“My record is an hour… wait….” Swaine looked at a clock on the wall. “Um, when did we end up falling into that lake, again?”

“Sometime yesterday afternoon, why?”

“Hold on!” Swaine quickly dug into his pack, taking out his jacket and holding it in front of Puggsy’s waist.

“What’re you--- whoa!”

In a flash of light, the two felt a change come over them. Swaine’s hair returned to its normal length and his muscles shrank down to their regular size, and Puggsy grew in height and his muscles bulked out as his snake tail was replaced with his own two-legs…

But something was missing…

“Eek!” Esther gasped, covering her eyes; Kim quickly turned around.

“O-Oh my!” Cassiopeia gasped and looked away as well.

“Gah! I’m blind!” Fangs screamed, pulling his hat over his eyes.

Marcassin and Biff awkwardly looked away, the latter covering Oliver’s eyes. Drippy fell over laughing.

“I forgot to tell you…” Swaine coughed, averting his eyes. “You always want to carry an extra set of pants.”

“NO SHIT!” Puggsy snapped, blushing deep.

And thus the story of the Talent Pool was never spoken of ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I seriously want to write more interactions between Fangs and Marcassin XD


End file.
